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THE
PUBLICATION OF
WAYNESBORO HIGH SCHOOL
WAYNESBORO, VIRGINIA
Waynesboro Public Library
We, the Senior Class, recognizing the great
sacrifices that the boys and girls from our
school are making in the defense of our
country, do dedicate the 1945 Skyline to the
honor of this valiant group.
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Poised on the Skyline — we face the vista be¬
fore us — one of , great change, of great challenge,
of unexplored realms. Behind us the years of
preparation, of building, of development — by¬
products of these years of change of this our
generation.
Herein we have collected a record of these
years, and what has happened to us.
As a reminder to ourselves that we must be
ready to face our Skyline as clearly as those
have already done to whom this volume is dedi¬
cated, we present the 1945 SKYLINE.
1. Government in Action. 4. Frenchy.
2. Quiet ! ! ! 5. Guidance.
3. “Our Coach.” 6. Shakespeare.
faculty ^Jn Contemplation
Or <) minis traiion
^Messaqe to S
emors
It is very gratifying to me to notice the change for the better, the growth
and marked improvements you have made during your stay in high school. We
have tried to guide you not only in the mastery of certain facts and skills, but
also in desirable habits of behavior, attitudes, and appreciations. We hope you
have attained these fundamental elements for successful democratic living and I
wish for you a happy future.
“Observe the postage stamp — its usefulness depends upon its ability to stick
to one thing until it gets there.” This quotation will be a good guide to follow. It
is easy to set a high goal, but it takes real determination and character to stick
to your purpose until the goal is obtained. The successful person is one who can
overlook the petty trials of everyday life and so not lose sight of the main things
in life.
r
Longfellow sums it up in four beautiful lines :
“The heights by great men reached and kept,
Were not attained by sudden flight ;
For they, while companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.”
ELLEN BENNETT, B.A.
Radford State Teachers College
University of Virginia
English, History, Biology
DORIS Bl^HRMAN, B.A.
Madison College
English, History
KITTY BUSH, B.A.
College of William and Mary
Duke University
Madison College
Farmville State Teachers College
English, History, Spanish
ETHEL DAVIES
University of Virginia
Monmouth College
Chemistry, Physics, Mathematics
VIRGINIA FERGUSON, B.A.
Madison College
English, History
COVELLE GEORGE, B.A.
Library Science
University of Oklahoma
Librarian
SELMA GIVENS, B.S.
Radford State Teachers College
Home Economics
F. B. GLENN, B.A.
William and Mary
Principal of Wilson and Jackson
Diversified Occupations
MARY GREENE, B.S.
Madison College
University of Virginia
English
GLADYS HANGER
School Nurse
R. C. JENNINGS, B.S., M.A.
William and Mary
Columbia University
Supervising Principal
GEORGIE LAW, B.S.
Madison College
Physical Education
JAMES A. LEITCH, JR. B.S.
University of Virginia
University of Maryland
Virginia Polytechnic Institute
New York University
Physical Education
QUENTIN PIDCOCK, B.S.
Morehead State Teachers College
Industrial Arts
HELEN SHULAR, B S.
Madison College
French, History, Dramatics
MAMIE SNOW, B.S.
Farmville State Teachers College
Mathematics
ELIZABETH SUTHERLAND, B.S
Westhampton College
Madison College
University of Virginia
Columbia University
Science
ELIZABETH SQUIRES, B.A.
College of William and Mary
University of Virginia
Smithdeal-Massey Business College
Commercial
IRENE TRAINUM
Dunsmore Business College
Secretary
JOSEPHINE WOLFE, B.A.
Emory and Henry College
Mathematics
LOUELLA WOODWARD, B.S., B.
Emory and Henry College
Radford State Teachers College
History, English, Latin
»
MRS. MARGARET WINCHESTER
B.A., M.A.
William and Mnrv College
University of Virginia
English, History
NELLE WRIGHT, B.A.
Emory and Henry College
William and Mary College
Supervisor of Instruction
Not shown in picture:
EDITH SNIDER, B.S.
Madison College
Music
MRS. STANLEY GARBER
Manager of Cafe'.eria
Senior Glass Officers
GILES POWELL
LLOYD BLACKWELL
. President
Vice-President
BOB WHITE
Secretary
SENIORS
IDA ALMARODE
“Nothing is more simple than great¬
ness; indeed to be simple is to be
great.”
1 Zo I So CHARLENE ARMENTROUT
“As merry as the day is long.”
y* LEIGH BALL
' f‘Life is a game that must be played.’
CALLIE BAKER
“I can suck melancholy out of a
song.”
GEORGE BARKSDALE
“Plough deep zvhile sluggards sleep.”
HALIBURTON BAYLOR
“He had no malice in his mind.”
JIMMY BEARDSWORTH
“The ladies call him sweet.”
Q7 LLOYD BLACKWELL
“As innocent as a nezv-laid egg.”
JEAN BRATTON
“Beauty of style and grace depend
on simplicity.”
- EUGENE BYRD
“Set honor in one eye and death in
the other, and I zvill look on both
indifferently.”
MARY ETTA CASH
“Her blushing zvas and how she
blushed again.”
PHYLLIS CLINE
“She’s little but she’s unse ;
She’s a corker for her size.”
JEAN COFFEY
“For she zvas just the quiet kind
whose nature never varied.”
ALVIN COOK
“Studious to please, yet not asham¬
ed to fail.”
CHARLOTTE COOK
“Dreamer of dreams.”
SENIORS
CHRISTINE COYNER
“They laugh that win.’’
MARY GRAY CRAIG
“Principle is my motto.”
WILLIAM CRAIG
‘ That which is everybody’s business.”
NORA CRITZER
“Nothing endures but personal quali¬
ties.”
DAISY LEE DEAN * ^
“Virtue is like a rich stone, best
plain set.”
KENNETH DUNN
“To receive honestly is the best
thanks for a good thing.”
MARION DRUMMOND
“He would budge not an inch.”
PETE EAST
“An experienced, industrious, ambi¬
tious, and often quite picturesque
liar.”
CONNIE ELLINGTON
“Her voice was ever soft, gentle,
and love, an excellent thing in a
woman.”
ROBERT EVANS
“What l can’t sec, I never will be¬
lieve in.”
EDITH FITZGERALD
“Sveeets with sweets war not, joy
delights in joy.”
JEAN FURR
“In friendship I early zoas taught to
believe.”
JEAN GUMM
“Our deeds determine us, as much
as we determine our deeds.”
LOULA HANGER
“So zoell she acted all and every
part.”
ANGELA HARRIS
“I zvear not my dagger in my mouth.”
SENIORS
/Z/rf/g? MARGARET HANSHAW
‘As true as the needle of the com¬
pass.”
JOHNNY HENDERSON
“Let me have an audience for a
zvord or tzvo.”
MYRTLE HENDERSON
“He will not ask if you won or lost,
But hove you flayed the game.”
WOODY HERRON
“I can single handed move the world.”
BETTY ANN HICKS
“I bear a charmed life.”
00 CHRISTINE HOY
“Exhausting thought, and living wis-
dom unth each studious year.”
BOBBY JENKINS
“I am a fart of all that I have met.”
PAUL JONES
“7 dare do all that may become a
man.”
VIOLA KELLLY
“My ou’ii thoughts are my com¬
panions.”
MARY ALICE KERLIN
j good be out of the world as out
of the fashion.”
LEORA KNAPP
“I am the very slave of circumstance.
An impulse born away u nth every
breath .”
FRANCES LAFFERTY
“The love light in her eye.”
JANE LAYMAN
“Good sense which only is the gift
of Heaven.”
RHUDENE LAYTON
“Virtue is her own reward.”
SELDA MAE LAYTON
‘Laugh and the world laughs with
you.”
SENIORS
VERLIE MARION
“ Speech is silver,
Silence is golden.”
LUCILLE MOSES
‘‘Within her tender eyes the heaven
of April with its changing light.”
ELLEN MOYER
‘‘Progress is the law of my life.”
SCOTT NININGER
“The heart is reiser than the in¬
tellect.”
MARY ROSE O’BRIEN
'r's zvhat 1 lave determines how I
love.”
GILES POWELL
“Such joy ambition finds."
SAM PRESTON
“I love fool’s experiments. I am al¬
ways making them.’
/
JAMES REESE
“Wit, note and then, struck smartly,
shores a spark.”
w*
8s
LOUISE SAYRE
“Everything that is unknown is taken
to be grand.”
PHYLLIS SHOWERS
“•This is my work; my blessing, not
my doom.”
C. G. SPECK
“ Life 1 is not so short but that there
is always time for courtesy.”
LOIS STEPPE
“Her ways are ways of pleasantness.”
FRANK TAYLOR
“Why aren’t they all contented like
me?”
JAMES TAYLOR
“No sooner said than done — so acts
this man of worth.”
SERETHA TAYLOR
“The shortest answer is doing.”
4
SENIORS
o
CALVIN VIA
never found the companion that
w 'as companionable as solitude .”
RUDOLPH VIA
“Handsome is as handsome docs.”
TOM VICARS
“He pleases all the world, but can¬
not please himself.”
RUBY WAGNER
“Never a tear — but her eyes a flood
of laughter.”
HELEN WALLER
“What is yours is mine and all mine
is yours.”
ELINOR WHITE
“Where the unllingness is great, the
the difficulties cannot be great.”
ROBERT WHITE
“Character is higher than intellect.”
ANN YANCEY
“She smiles our world to loveliness,
like sunshine after rain.”
o\ OYho
enior
Prettiest
Mary Alice Kerlin
Handsomest
Rudolph Via
Best Athlete
Frances Lafiferty
Woody Herron
Biggest Flirt
Betty Ann Hicks
Sam Preston
Neatest
Mary Alice Kerlin
George Barksdale
Best All Around
Frances Lafiferty
Bob White
Best Personality
and Friendliest
Loula Hanger
Bob White
Quietest
Margaret Hanshaw
Alvin Cook
Cutest
Mary Alice Kerlin
Bob White
A I ost S o phisticated
Nehi Knapp
C. G. Speck
Wittiest
Elinor White
Lloyd Blackwell
Biggest Bluff
Nehi Knapp
Lloyd Blackwell
Laziest
Callie Baker
Calvin Via
Best Sport
Frances Lafferty
Bob White
Most Studious
Loula Hanger
C. G. Speck
Most Likely to Succeed
Loula Hanger
James Taylor
Most Popular
Nehi Knapp
Lloyd Blackwell
Best Figure
Callie Baker
Best Physique
Rudolph Via
Most Popular Teachers
Mrs. Woodward
Coach Leitch
0 Yhat the S eniors C-R.emLn() ly[s Of
IDA ALMARODE .
CALLIE BAKER .
LEIGH BALL .
JIMMY BEARDSWORTH
HALIBURTON BAYLOR .
JEAN BRATTON .
LLOYD BLACKWELL .
NORA CRITZER .
PHYLLIS CLINE .
MARY GRAY CRAIG .
MARION DRUMMOND .
ANN YANCEY .
PETE EAST .
CONNIE ELLINGTON .
ROBERT EVANS .
EDITH FITZGERALD .
JEAN FURR .
JEAN GUMM .
MARGARET HANSHAW .
LOULA HANGER .
MYRTLE HENDERSON .
BOBBY JENKINS .
FRANCES LAFFERTY .
SELDA LAYTON .
ANGELA HARRIS .
LUCILLE MOSES .
PHYLLIS SHOWERS .
C. G. SPECK .
FRANK TAYLOR .
JAMES TAYLOR .
CALVIN VIA .
RUDOLPH VIA .
RUBY WAGNER .
ELINOR WHITE .
TOM VICARS .
PAUL JONES .
CHARLENE ARMENTROUT
GEORGE BARKSDALE .
EUGENE BYRD .
MARY ETTA CASH .
JEAN COFFEY .
ALVIN COOK .
CHARLOTTE COOKE .
CRIS COYNER .
WILLIAM CRAIG .
DAISY DEAN .
KENNETH DUNN .
JOHNNY HENDERSON .
WOODY HERRON .
BETTY ANN HICKS . .
CHRISTINE HOY .
VIOLA KELLEY .
MARY ALICE KERLIN .
LEORA KNAPP .
IANE LAYMAN .
RHUDENE LAYTON .
VERLIE MARION . .
ELLEN MOYER .
SCOTT NININGER .
MARY ROSE O’BRIEN .
GILES POWELL .
SAM PRESTON... .
LOUISE SAYRE .
LOIS STEPPE .
SERETHA TAYLOR .
HELEN WALLER .
ROBERT WHITE .
. Mouse
. Sweater Girl
. Football Player
. The Physique
. Clarke Gable
. F.M. S.
. Hopeless Case
. Pancake Makeup
. Squirrel
. Giggle
. Playboy
. T ardy
. Burp
. . . .Stars and Garters
...Hen-pecked Hubby
. Kitten
. Filling Station
. Typist
. Wifey
. Student Council
. School Spirit
. Zoo
. . Bride-to-be
. IV. IV. G. H.
. Dotty Lamour
. News- V irginia.i
. Rain
. ...Wolf
. Physics Quiz
. Pictures
. Laziness
. Charles Atlas
. Third Marines
Nightingale, Florence
. . .Southwest Virginia
. Baby Face
. . Corn
. Impossible
. Bluff
. .Roses Five and Ten
. Cherry
. Quietness
. Blonde Bomber
. Smile
. Madison College
. Engagement
. . .Du Pont Rec. 1 1 all
. Jitterbug
. Our Ideal
. Flirt
. Modesty
. “Candy"
. Cover Girl
. Apple Polisher
. The Voice
. Danger
. Wishing
. Basketball
. T ommy Dorsey
. Yankee
. Professor
. Pinky
. Violet
. Silly Questions
. Strawberry
. Nurse
. Sophomore Idol
1. Blood, Sweat, and l ears ’ 2. The gruesome-foursome 3. Where’s Carol??? •! TTj t Q,
5. Rah! Rah! Rah! 6. Trapped 7. Seniors at work 8. Going to church, Ellen? ? ? ? 9. ’’Jake”
10. All smiles 11. Feet and more feet 12. All dressed up and no where to go 13. Those
million dollar legs? ? ? 14. Snow-bound 15. “Ouch” 16. Our Mascot 17. Myrt’s our gal 18.
i wo of a kind 19. “Pals” 20. “Innocence” 21. Seniors — but not so dignified.
junior Glass Officers
BOBBY BURNS . . . President
BILLY DAMERON
Vice-President
BILLY PHIPPS
Secretary-Treasurer
JUNIORS
Aldridge, Lois
Allen, Betty Ann
Almarode, George
Alphin, Mary Louise
Arnold, Evelyn
Best, Ann
Bones, Charles
Burns, Bobby
Campbell, Charles
Chandler, June
Cline, Kirk
Coffey, Elizabeth
Coleman, Ordella
Dameron, Billy
Dempsey, Ruby
Diehl, Martha
Driver, Graham
Drumheller, Peggy
Fitzgerald, Jackie
Frashcr, Audray
Frye, Johnny
Gipson, Gip Lee
Gochenour, Alary Sue
Halterman, Sylvia
Hammer, James
Hanger, Donald
Harmon, Grey
Henderson, Vivian
Hitt, Elizabeth Ann
Hicks, Gloria
Hodge, Julian
Humphreys, Frances
Johns, James
Johnson, Bette
Jones, Juanita
Kerns, “Pete”
JUNIORS
Kinser, Kathleen
Kite, Emma Jean
Knapp, Peggy
Lonas, Allen
McCormick, Katherine
McCue, Lois
Maupin Robert
Miller, Frances
Moore, Bernice
Moore, Betty
Moore, Hannah
Moyer, Frances
Myrtle, Juanita
Pharr, Mary Betsy
Pittman, Jean
Plummer, Betty
Quick, Jackie
Rathburn, Mary Virginia
Reeves, Jean
Reid, Richard
Ross, Virginia
Saunders, Virginia
Showers, Clinton
Skillman, Betty
Smith, Carol
Tally, Wanda
Taylor, Blackwell
Trieschman, Mary Ann
Twing, Rusty
Vines, Billy Jean
Wade, Betty
Do Not Have Pictures
Terry, Mac
Taylor, Charlotte
Tanner, Violette
Shumate, Carl
Niedenthol, Larue
Morris, Charlene
Burnett, Mabel
Carr, Ruby
Carter, Louise
Fisher, Frances
Hall, Leatrice
Link, Naomi
Critzer, Thelma
Davis, Marshall
Myers, Glenn
Yount, Jo Ann
Haden, Allen
Hughes, Francis
Lamb, Charles
Phipps, William
1. Not a worry in the world 2. “Libby” 3. “Red” 4. With the wind in her hair 5. Football
fans 6. Camping.
Sophomore Glass Offi
icets
HAL GRUVER . . . President
CHARLES PADGETT . . . Vice-President
NANCY McCRAKEN
Secretary
SOPHOMORES
MISS BUSH’S HOMEROOM
Fiont Row Left to Right : Miss Kitty Bush, Peggy Smith, Jeanne White, Nancy Mc¬
Cracken, Barbara \\ allace, Mary Bloss, Mary Hammer, Betsy Freed, Robert Goodloe,
Harold Moyer, William Landes, Massie Wright, Tommy Lotts, Jack Ryman, Bill Kinder,
Eddie Dinwiddie, Sarah Plumb, Pauline Niedentohl.
Lack Row Left to Right: Carl Lamb, Dudley Mori is, Bernard Hunt, Bobbie Barnes,
Charles I adgett, Billy Quesenbery, Howell Gruver, Eddie Childs, Margaret Critzer, Lucille
Henderson, Jean Owens, Jean Sheffield.
Not in Picture— Bobby Antrobus, Jimmy Deadrick, Daley Craig, Mabel Teter, Alfred Taylor.
MISS BENNETT’S HOMEROOM
Front Row — Left to Right: — Donald Beverage, Frank Williams, Joseph Knapp, Mildred
Roadcap, Dorothy Powers, Delores Yancey, Jackie Darnell, Joyce Tuck, Patricia Lilly,
Geraldine Neighbors, Ida Fisher, Betty Tomey.
Back Row Left to Right : — 'Miss Ellen Bennett, Arthur Hodge, Billy Peterson, Paul Michael,
Arthur Engman, Charles Tomey, Richard Kidd, Herbert Schwab, Bette Quillen, Homer
Stmespring, LaNoma Baker, Carl Landes, Anna Dedrick, Jimmy Bratton, Gene Heatwcle,
Rudolph Fitzgerald, Milnes Austin, Russell Kennedy.
MISS GIVENS’ HOMEROOM
Miss Givens, Edythe Landes, Jean Tanner, Jean Spradlin, Agnes Phorr, Dolly Dedrick,
Leona Armentrout, Louise Griggs, Geraldine Hammer, Lillian Diehl, Betsy Potts, Helen
Bateman, M'able McCrary, Betty McCauley, Alice Davis, Jean Ann Lucas, Peggy F eed,
Joan Coyner, Gloris Beahm, Jean Roberts, Delores Burnett, Helen Jones, Phyllis Fo tune,
Doris McCambridge.
SOPHOMORES
At last, we are actually sophomores. We have been examined under the critical eyes of
the upper classmen and have passed the test, we hope ! One year is behind us and we are
looking forward to the privilege of being time honored juniors.
Our class officers are Howell Gruver, president, Charles Padgett, vice president and
Nancy McCracken, secretary. A very efficient group we think, but who are we to express
our opinions? These officers are excellent examples of the type of students found in the
sophomore class. Numbered also in the class are, we prophesy, next year’s star athletes.
We are endeavoring to the best of our ability to master sophomore subjects. The so-
called easy subjects, shop and home economics have turned out to be as difficult as algcb a
or history.
Another year is passing, and though we don’t like to admit it, we are enjoying every
minute of our sophomore year.
1. What a gang? ?. 2. Sophomores at work 3. Man’s best friend 4. A great little man
5- Lazy-bones 6. “Blondie” 7. Another Knapp 8. Bathing beauty 9. Just girls.
tfresh man Glass Offi
Leers
JACKIE QUESENBERY . President
ANN GREAVER . Vice-President
JEAN BIRDSONG . Secretary
FRESHMEN
MISS BUHRMAN’S HOMEROOM
Front Row— Left to Right— Sally Ellis, Jackie Quesenbery, Miss Buhrman, Binford Chew,
Frances Campbell, Janice Steele, Sue Lawless, Barbara Cohn, Helen Kinser, Flora Larsen,
Diane Ricks, Dorothy Davis, Janet Kniceley, Jo Ann Canada, Charles Hutton, Lewis Craig,
Paul Almarode, Jay Grossman, Phil Brooks, Smedley Hartwick.
Second Row — Left to Right: — Lois Furr, Clemmer Matheney, Buddy Davis, William Ball,
Douglas Hunte.
MISS SNOW’S HOMEROOM
hirst Row — Left to Right: — Melvin Niedentohl, Eddie Terry, James Johnson, Pickford
Kennedy, Ralph Drummond, Raymond Parnell, Billy Martin, Jimmy Worth, Carl Alma¬
rode, Jimmy Fitzgerald, Lemuel Irvin.
Back Row — Left to Right: — Joyce Cook, Patsy Black, Helen Cale, Nancy Johnson, Ann
Greaver, Violet Crouch, Lucille Fitzgerald, Jane Zimmerman, Louise Davis, Helen Marks,
Joyce Wimer, Betty Wright, Miss Mamie Snow.
FRESHMEN
MISS SUTHERLAND’S HOMEROOM
Front Row— Left to Right Louis Spilman, II, Lonnie James, Eugene Wright, Russell
Coffey, Arthur Tolley, Clyde Campbell, Douglas Matheney, William O’Brien, Bradley Myrtle,
Johnny Troxell, Rudolph Reed.
Back Row— Left to Right Dorothy Bryan, Dorothy Ralston, Jelenne Williamson, Freida
Simmons, Peggy Jones, Ruth Dunn, Barbara Snead, Margaret Woolford, Ann Taylor, Mary
Kennedy Myrtle Ruckman, Shirley Johnson, Ruth Lucas, Catherine bisher, Mary Alice
McComb.
MISS FERGUSON’S HOMEROOM
Front Row _ Left to Right: — Lynwood Lamb, Cannon Steele, Billy Taylor, Macon Brown,
Howard Fitzgerald, Ralph Wagner, Kenneth Coffey, Lynwood Lowry, Warren Burns.
Back Row _ Left 'to Right: — Edward Haney, Nancy Williams, Emma Belle Batman, Chris¬
tine Wolfe Tessie Neofotis, Ruth Maier, Frances Quillen, Joan Hanger, Bunnie Ricks,
Marianna Shumate, Eleanor Saunders, Gene Garst, Viola Price, Mary Virginia Cason,
Gertrude Lamb, Mary Frances Hall, Peggy Moyer, Beatrice Campbell, Dorothy Critzer,
Betty McCambridge, Frances Lowery, Ruby Arnold, Miss Virginia Ferguson.
MISS LAW’S HOMEROOM
Left to Right — Back Row: — Miss Georgie Law, Alary Ann Keenan, Dorothy Cole, Betty
Jane Pittman, Helen Stinespring, Frances Quick, Shirley Larson, Ruth Humphries, Peggy
Lamb, Rose Marie Saunders, Janet Altice, Betty Lou Shifflett, Mary Louise Harry, Maizie
Hanger, and Betty Lou Powell.
Left to Right — Front Row: — Gene Baber, Wayne Brokenbrough, Winfred Fitzgerald, Everett
Johns, Leonard Aldridge, Ben Dorrier, J. S. McMillan, Walter Thompson, and Lamont
Edwards.
FRESHMEN
The freshmen of 1944-45 started a new experience when we entered high school in the
fall. The idea of changing classes and having a different teacher for each subject was new
to us.
The first of the year’s studies was mostly a review of our old work. General science
was an entirely different field for us, but is very interesting. Everyone liked the idea of
having physical education and being able to get away from our studies for an hour each
day. We studied something new and different in the type of literature and in our scholastics
for our English class. Our history has taken us deeper into how our governments perform
their duties.
In November we elected our new class officers, who were: President — Jackie Quesenbery ;
Vice-President — Ann Greaver ; Secretary — Jean Birdsong.
Our freshmen class held a party in the latter part of December which turned out very
successfully. Many freshmen and teachers attended the social and enjoyed it very much.
We all have enjoyed our freshmen year and are looking forward to our next years
at Waynesboro High School.
1 “Tom-boy” 2. “Ain’t he cute” 3. Sweet and lovely 4. Day-dreamer 5. “Song-bird” 6. Soda
jerk 7. Woot’s twin.
OYU ^he ^ each ers V> Of
Miss Wolfe . Southwest Va. through and through
Miss Squires . Efficiency plus!!!
Miss George . s . June Allyson
Mrs. Davies . Everything nice
Miss Law . Fudge sticks
Mrs. Woodward . . . RecL r0ses
Miss Snow . Snowball
Miss Givens . Black-eyed susan
Miss Trainum . . . Friend in need is a friend indeed
Miss Rush . Spring day
Miss Bennett . Gladiolus
Mrs. Winchester . . . Southern belle
Miss Ferguson . Bright eyes
Miss Snidow . Music
Miss Shular . „ . . . Orchid
Miss Sutherland. . . . Wiser and wiser
Miss Buhrman . Smile
Miss Greene . Purple Iris
Prof. Jennings . .Interest, understanding, and helpfulness
Mr. Pidcock . . . Working hands
Coach Leitch . Progress
Mr. Glenn . Leadership
Co-Editors .
Business Managers. . .
Sports Managers .
Literary Editors .
Advertising Managers
Senior Ofnnual Staff
..Frances Lafferty
James Taylor
. . . .Eugene Byrd
Woody Herron
. Viola Kelly
Robert White
Leora Knapp
Mary Alice Kerlin
. . . Charlotte Cooke
Lloyd Blackwell
Circular Managers
Art Managers. . . .
Proof-Readers . . ,
Typists . .
Sponsors .
. Ellen Moyer
George Barksdale
. Lois Steppe
. . Elinor White
C. G. Speck
Loula Hanger
. Daisy Lee Deane
Ruby Wagner
Mrs. Louella Woodward
Miss Mary Green
Left to Right: Herbert Schwab, Bette Johnson, Ruby Wagner, George Barksdale, Harold
Moyer, Ruth Lucas, Janet Knicely, Gloria Hicks, Ann Greaver, Billy Taylor, June Chand¬
ler, Edythe Landes, Shirley Larson, Katherine McCormick, Vice-President.
Standing are: Mrs. Louella Woodward, Sponsor; Loula Hanger, President; Connie Elling¬
ton, Secretary.
Student Council
The Student Council of 1944-45 has striven to maintain and strengthen a
democratic relationship between the student body and faculty and to provide
freedom in individual and group action as long as the action seems to contribute
to the welfare of the school. Various student committees, supervised by the
Council, have done much to aid this program. The task has just begun, and to
the councils of future years, we cry, “Excelsior.”
First row : Woody Herron, Robert White.
Second row: Charles Bones, Howell Gruver, Eddie Childs, Bob Burns.
Third row: Johnny Henderson, Leigh Ball, Charles Campbell, Coach Leitch, Eugene Byrd.
Fourth Row: Bobby Maupin, Calvin Via, Tommy Vicars, Jimmy Beardsworth, Giles Powell,
Francis Hughes, Lloyd Blackwell.
Not in picture: Rudolph Via, Eddie Dinwiddie, Marrion Drummond.
a "Of" eu
ROBERT WHITE . ..President
BOB BURNS . Vice-President
EUGENE BYRD . Secretary-Treasurer
The “W” Club was organized in 1943 after football season. This club was organized
to set examples for the rest of the students in scholarship, sportsmanship, leadership, health
habits, and high school athletics.
The W Club has assumed such responsibilities as packing waste paper, advertising
athletic events, and ushering at basketball games.
Membership qualifications for the “W” Club are that all members earn a varsity letter
for a major sport and that they pass initiations.
Only once in two years was a boy suspended from the club and this was because his
work was unsatisfactory. He was readmitted in two weeks’ time.
Left to right: Miss Covelle George, Miss Elizabeth Squires. Faculty Sponsors; Joan Han
ger, Frances Quillen, Marianne Shumate, Hannah Moore, Sarah Plumb, Shirley Johnson,
Frances Quick, Jane Zimmerman, Jo Ann Yount, George Barksdale, Juanita Myrtle, Kathe¬
rine McCormick, Nina McGann, Sylvia Halterman, Jean Roberts, Binford Chew, Cris
Coyner, Patricia Lilly, Geraldine Hammer, Ann Greaver, Ida Almarode, and Ruby Wagner.
Not in picture: Frances Humphreys, Gip Lee Gibson, Gene Heatwole, Billy Peterson,
Charlene Armentrout, Billy Taylor, Vernon Kidd, Joseph O’Brien.
junior R_ec) Gross ^Representatives
The Student Body of Waynesboro High School is enrolled 100% in the Junior Red
Cross. The planning is done through the two homeroom representatives from each room
and the Student Council Committee. The members have been very active this year and
have worked hard at a variety of projects. Their program of activities included collecting
recreational supplies and making ditty bags to be used by the hospital and Camp Council
for servicemen at the Woodrow Wilson Hospital. They participated in community projects
by conducting a street sale of T. B. Bangles, enrolled in accident prevention classes and
received certificates, conducted a “Back-to-School” campaign, and assisted the U. N. R. R.
A. committee in collecting clothing for foreign relief. For the servicemen of Woodrow
Wilson General Hospital the Manual Arts Class made walking canes, watch holders, cribbage
boards and the girls made cartoon books. The members have assisted the local Red Cross
in a number of ways and have distributed forms, done clerical work and helped in th*>
1945 War Fund Drive.
Standing: Peggy Smith, Dimples Kite, Treasurer; Sam Preston, President; Myrtle
Henderson, Secretary; Alice Davis.
Sitting: (left to right) Mary Sue Gochenour, Connie Ellington, lean Birdsong, Diane Ricks
r acuity members: (not in picture) Miss Georgie Law, Miss Selma Givens, Miss Virginia
Ferguson, Mr. James Leitch
Social Committee
I he Social Committee, chosen first by homerooms and then approved by
Student Council, has a membership of nine students and four faculty members.
The committee, meeting one day a week, sponsors the dances and socials of
the school.
First Row: “Nehi” Knapp
Second Row: Bette Johnson, Emma Jean Kite, Carol Smith
Third Row : “Cris” Coyner, “Myrt” Henderson
Fourth Row : Peggy Smith
The cheering squad of 1944-45 consists of seven cheerleaders. They were
chosen through Student Council according to the ability of the students in a
try-out contest.
They practiced regularly and kept the student body up-to-date on t' e old
cheers and discovered many new ones.
Leading the cheers throughout the football and basketball seasons, they kent
the crowd bubbling with school spirit ; and nothing was too good for the “Gold
and Purple” as far as the cheerleaders were concerned.
0
First Row : “Jody” Knapp, Gloris Beahm, Virginia Saunders, Gip Lee Gibson
Second Row: Catherine Fitzgerald, Homer Stinespring, Peggy Smith, La Noma Baker, Carl
Lamb, Miss Helen Shular
Q)rarncdLC Glut?
Under the leadership of the director, Miss Helen Shular, the members of
the Waynesboro High School Dramatic Club have devoted much time to the
study of acting, staging, and make up. This allows members to acquaint them¬
selves with the experience necessary for taking charge of major productions.
However, the club encourages finding and developing talent from the entire stu¬
dent body, and hence, this year roles in all productions have been opened to a tai
greater number of students. This has made it possible not only foi members of
the club, but for anyone interested in trying out to participate in the dramatic pro¬
duction.
It has become the custom to present two major public performances during
each school year: a variety show and a three-act play. The variety this yeai
was in the form of a vaudeville show. The cast consisted of about sixty actois.
All skits were student written — all dance routines were original and student
directed — all make up, staging, and lighting effects were worked out by student
committees. The industrial arts classes helped with several stage effects. Miss
Snidow and the Glee Club contributed much talent and leadership in the musical
numbers.
First Row: Louis Spilman, Jimmy Johnson, Frances Quillen, Joan Hanger, Mary Hammer,
Barbara Wallace, Betty Potts, Ann Best, Libby Anne Hitt, Jackie Quick, Delores Yancey,
Mary Louise Harry, Mazie Hanger, Juanita Jones, Miss Edith Snidow, Donald Hanger,
Harold Moyer, Joe O’Brien.
Second Row : Ruth Humphries, Ruby Dempsey, Billy Peterson, Charles Padgett, Bunnie
Ricks, Jimmy Bratton, Jimmy Fitzgerald, Richard Reid, Ordella Coleman, Agnes Pfarr,
Betty Allen.
Not present for picture: Mary Bloss, Audra Frasher, Mary Sue Gochenour, Betty McCauley,
Jane Zimmerman, Rudy Arnold, Joyce Hintz, Leonard Aldridge, Clyde Campbell, Billy Hite,
Bobby Barnes, Colies Hintz.
Choral Glut ?
For the first time in the history of the choral club, it now has a member¬
ship, of both boys and girls; thus resulting in a large organization.
Through the year the club has sung at various programs, such as the Thanks¬
giving and Christmas assemblies, and at the program given for the parents on
“Open House Day.” Some of the members sang in the “Vaudeville Show” pre¬
sented by the Dramatic Cluyb. Before the year ends the club will give an assembly
program and sing at graduation exercises.
I
Song of Daytime
Leora Knapp
The grey dawn— and the last star fades,
A soft silver light comes.
The mist rises to greet the hours
Saying adieu to the lovely flowers.
The prelude to a song — the soft, refreshing
dawn.
The dawn becomes erstwhile and the world
is radiant.
The sun is now majestic, casting shadows,
Making figures reflecting on the deepest
meadows
The melody is now in tune.
The hours pass and all too soon.
Late afternoon, life is hard; our day’s work
is done.
Many experiences we have met.
Late afternoon is here; the sun is fading yet.
The melody is soft and getting far away.
The sun still shines with paler light;
I know it will not stay.
The twilight comes and all too suddenly but
with kindness and quietness.
The lights of evening are pastel shades, and
the tired sun descends.
Leaving behind the mountains, the earth,
the winding river bends.
We barely hear the lovely theme.
The evening star soon must gleam.
Darkness comes and the stars glitter with a
high polish.
The night is moonless and the soft breezes
are sighing.
The few embers of a daytime now are dying.
The song is ended with little glory.
This is a song of life’s own story.
First row: Buster Bones, Tom Vicars, Leigh Ball, Bob White, Captain Woody Herron,
Eddie Childs, Giles Powell, Bobby Maupin, Jimmy Beardsworth.
Second row : Bob Burns, Manager Lloyd Blackwell, Jack Fisher, Charles Campbell, Howell
Gruver, Pete Kerns, Francis Hughes, Eugene Byrd, Sam Preston.
Third row: Gene Heatwole, William Craig, Carl Shumate, Willie Landis, Bernard Hunt,
Frank Taylor, Lonnie James, Pete McMillian, Pete East, Billy Quesenbery.
Fourth row : Coach Leitch, Assistant Manager Eddie Dinwiddie, Mac Terry.
Missing: Bill Meeteer, Marion Drummond, Rudolph Via, Glenn Myers, Jim Woods.
Alan Lonas.
The “Little Giants” came through with a fine record this year having Woody Herron
and Giles Powell on All Conference and Leigh Ball, Rudy Via, Bobby Maupin, Bill Meeteer,
and Buster Bones making honorable mention.
This years team was heavy and hard-hitting.
Game Comments :
Culpeper was beaten in the last half by a “rallied eleven.”
Lane — The “Giants” had “fumblitis.”
Winchester — The “spirit was willing but the body was weak.”
V. S. D. B. — Fast and furious, was won only in the last few minutes.
Miller School — W'Jas beaten, all the way by the “Giant Eleven.”
Covington — The eleven “Giants” walked into a “meatgrinder.”
Harrisonburg — Was outplayed all the way, but the “hard-fighting eleven” lost out in the
scoring.
Fluvanna — The “Little Giants” came through, but what a game!
Culpeper . 6
Lane . 18
Winchester . . 20
V. S. D. B . 0
Miller School . . . . • • • • 7
Covington . 33
Lexington . 0
Harrisonburg High . 27
Fluvanna . 0
Waynesboro . 12
Waynesboro . 0
Waynesboro . 0
Waynesboro . 6
Waynesboro . 12
Waynesboro . 6
Waynesboro . 1
Waynesboro . . 14
Waynesboro . 13
Back Row: Miss Law, Coach; Elinor Whhe; Ellen Moyer; Jean Sheffield; Hannah Moore;
Mary Virginia Cason ; Ruby Wagner, Manager.
Front Row: Mary Gray Craig; Frances Lafferty ; Viola Kelly, Captain; Myrtle Henderson;
Charlotte Cooke.
Not in picture: Katherine McCormick; Margaret Critzer.
Cj iris’ J^asketball
This year showed marked improvement in the development of skills and team
work among the “Little Amazons.” The team profited by accurate forwards and
tall, strong, fast-passing guards.
Ellen Moyer and Charlotte Cooke were the most versatile players being read¬
ily adaptable to both guard and forward positions.
The total number of games played was nine. Out of these nine there were
five wins, three losses, and one tie. High scorer for the “Little Amazons” was
Captain Viola Kelly with a total of 47 points. Taking second place was center,
Frances Lafferty, with a total of 41 points. Myrtle Henderson came up with 32
points and Charlotte Cooke 21 points.
Back row : Mr. Leitch, Coach ; Lloyd Blackwell ; Eddie Dinwiddie, Manager.
Center: Eddie Childs; Buster Bones; Bobby Maupin; Howell Gruves; Marrion Drummond.
First row: Giles Powell, Captain; Bob White; Bob Burns; Jimmy Beardsworth ; Woody
Herron.
Basketball
The Little Giants of ’45 had a very successful season, losing only two conference games
and finishing as runners-up in the conference. The Little Giants defeated two class A high
schools during the season. These teams were Lane, which was defeated once, and Wash¬
ington and Lee of Arlington, defeated twice. The Little Giants lost to the Class A state
champs by four points only. The ’44-’45 Little Giants won four berths on the all conference
team. These players were: Giles Powell, WWody Herron, Jimmy Beardsworth, and Bob
White. High scorer for the year was Bob White with 234 points, a game average of 12
points. Next in the scoring section were Beardsworth with 184, Herron with 141, Powell with
76, and Burns with 56.
Beverly Manor . 20
Stuarts Draft . 20
Lane . 27
V. S. D. B . 32
S. M. A . 38
Covington . 25
Clifton Forge . 15
Harrisonburg . 49
Washington and Lee . 31
Lexington . 26
Staunton . 38
Covington . 33
Washington and Lee . 29
George Washington High . 39
V.S.D.B . . 36
Harrisonburg . 28
Lexington . 30
Clifton Forge . 23
Staunton . 33
Lane . 35
W aynesboro . 49
Waynesboro . 54
Wraynesboro . 26
Waynesboro . 21
Wraynesboro . 30
Waynesboro . 44
Waynesboro . 35
Waynesboro . 28
Waynesboro . 45
Wraynesboro . 47
Waynesboro . 40
Wraynesboro . 54
Waynesboro . 37
Wraynesboro . 35
Waynesboro . 34
Waynesboro . 27
Wraynesboro . 40
Waynesboro . 36
Waynesboro . ; . 52
Waynesboro . 47
Back Row: Mr. Leitch, Coach; Bobby Moore; Raymon Parnell; Daley Craig; Massie
n , . Wright; Carl Shumate; Tommy Lotts
Center: Milnes Austin ; Harold Moyer; Glen Matheney; Lemuel Irving; Paul Almarode ;
„ J°dy R-napp; Louis Spilman; Robert Pleasants
kront Row: Homer Stmespring; “ Willie" Landis; Mac Terry; Jack Fisher; Russell
Kennedy; Bernard Hunt; Ernest McMillan; “Pete” Kerns.
J-unior Varsity ^Basketball
The Junior Varsity came through with a very good record this year. The
team played well and fought many hard battles.
V. S. D. B. — Tried hard, but just couldn’t do it.
Lexington— Fought hard and were rewarded for it.
Fishei sville Although they were playing the varsity, they came out on top.
V. S. D. B. — Made up for their earlier defeat by this team.
Lexington — Came up with flying colors.
O.
W.
V. S. D. B.
38
12
Lexington
14
20
Fishersville
23
27
V. S. D. B.
13
21
Lexington
19
31
Woody Herron, “Giant” quarterback, was polled as
one of the four All-Conference backs. Woody, prob¬
ably the shiftiest back in the conference, was liked
very much by his teammates. He played his heart out
in every game, even when victory was impossible. His
popularity was shown when he was elected team cap¬
tain by the rest of the ’44 football lettermen. Herron
will play his fourth year of football in the ’45 session
and will be a valuable asset as well as "spark plug” for
the whole team.
Captain Woody Herron of the
Little Giants, All-Conference Back.
Giles Powell reached the peak of his high school
football career in the 1944 season. He played first
string guard, in his sophomore, junior, and senior
years. This knowledge and experience gained during
his first two years, together with hard steady playing
all three, won him a starting berth on the ’44 All-Con¬
ference team, taken from a poll of all the players in
the conference. His highest position, however was
given him by every coach in the conference. His grad¬
uation is indeed a heavy loss to the “Little Giants.”
• «
Giles Powell, “most outstanding
linesman” of the conference.
Giles Powell repeated his last year’s perfor¬
mance as an outstanding, steady basketball guard.
He was “dead” on set shots and many games
were pulled out of the “much” and turned in ou-'
favor when he dropped in as many as 3 or 4
straight ones in a quarter. Giles was the team's
most valuable rebound man, receiving about half
of all the rebounds that were taken by the Giants.
The ball was very seldom stolen from Powell,
yet he took it from an opponent many times. He
was the best defensive player on the team, keep¬
ing the opponent from making many points.
Powell served as game captain in the following
games: Covington, Washington and Lee, V. S.
D. B., Lexington, and Lee High.
Captain Giles Powell, all conference guard
of 1945.
Woody Herron, speedy right guard for the
Little Giants, was voted the best all around
guard in the conference. His wonderful ball
handling made him an outstanding player. Time
and again he stole the ball from the opponents
and dribbled in for two points. Like his running
mate, Powell, Woody was in on many rebounds
taken from the opponents board. Woody con¬
tributed 144 points to the Little Giants’ total, this
being a good share of points. Woody still has an¬
other year to play yet, and should be even more
valuable and outstanding next season. Herron
served as game captain of the following games :
Stuarts Draft, V. S. D. B., Clifton Forge, Lex¬
ington, W ashington and Lee, Harrisonburg, and
Lane High.
Woody Herron, all conference guard of
1945.
Bob White, Giant high scorer, all-confer¬
ence forward of 1945.
Jim Beardsworth, shifty left forward, was a
mainstay of the team. His beautiful ball handl¬
ing and shifty work proved to be a deciding
factor in all the Little Giants’ games. Jim was
famous for his one hand push shot from the side
of the basket. He contributed 184 points to the
Little Giants’ total of 779. Jim’s best game of
the year probably was the Harrisonburg game.
From the starting whistle to the final gun, Jim
was fighting all the way and never gave up. Jim
will be missed by the Little Giants next season
because of his superb playmg. Beardsworth serv¬
ed as game captain in the Lane High game.
Bob White, flashy left-handed right forward,
was the Little Giant’s high scorer for the season
of 1944-45. White had four 20 point-or-better
games, his highest being 30 points. Probably his
best game was the Lane High game at Charlottes¬
ville, where he lead his team mates to a 47-35
victory, scoring 25 of the points himself. He
was bearing a grudge against a 1 point loss to
the Lane boys earlier in the season, and no Lane
guard could hold him down. White served as
game captain of the following games : Beverley
Manor, S. M. A., Harrisonburg, Lee High, and
George Washington High.
Jim Beardsworth, all conference forward
of 1945.
Center top— right forward, Kelly; Right top — Center forward, Lafferty; Left top— Left
forward, Henderson; Direct under center top— Manager, Wagner; Center right— Right
guard, White; Center left — Right guard, Moore.
Center pictures: Center right— Coach, Law; Center left— Mascot, Sgt. Mattingly; Lower
right Left guard, Moyer; Loiver left — Center guard, Cooke; Lower center— Ga-ga and
Kitty in action.
Life’s First Moment
Emma Jean Kite
‘‘Mother, bring me a towel, some soap and
a wash cloth, and hurry,” I hollered from
the top steps to the kitchen where Mom was
washing dishes.
“All right, in a minute, and for heaven’s
sake don't get so excited,” was the answer
back. She brought everything while I had
a fit not being able to find my other slipper.
“Is the bath water ready, and a-a-oh. dear,
where is my shoe”? At that time the door
bell rang. “What time is it? Oh, it’s not
7:30, is it? — It can't be.”
I peeked out the window and what did I
see but a florist truck. Then I heard, “Dim¬
ples, Dimples, flowers and for you! Open
them, hurry!”
“Mother, it's an orchid from Jack!” Put
it in the icebox. Mother.” I hurried upstairs,
took my bath, combed my hair, painted my
face, and last but not least put on my beauti¬
ful white gown (at least I thought it was).
It was 7:25 and I had five minutes just to
get more excited and nervous.
There it was the door bell; Mother ans¬
wered. As I heard his voice a tingle went
up my spine. I pinned on my orchid. How
beautiful it looked with my gown! We were
ready and Mom and Dad watched me as I
left, for it wras my first dance.
My Vacation
Or How To Keep from
Growing Old
George Grove
It was Sunday night when I was suddenly
awakened by a strange voice calling my
name. Ouch! Why don’t they stuff mattresses
with something besides road gravel and
stems of rose bushes? Where am I, anyway?
Oh! I have it now. I’m on a farm and that
is old man Pitts calling me.
“All right,” I answered. “Where’s the fire?
What? It’s morning and time to get up”?
I guess you winder w’hat a fellow from
the big city is doing on a farm. Haven’t you
heard? There’s a war on. I’m taking my
vacation on the farm for my health and for
the quietness of country life. Besides, they
claim that there is a shortage of farm labor¬
ers. Pitt’s son is in the army.
Well, I’d better get up or I might get
fired. Then I’d have to spend my vacation
in the noise and rush and tear of the beach.
I see that they do have a few conveniences
out here in this wilderness. There on a table
is a washbowl and a cake of soap, and right
outside my door there is a pump and bucket.
Yawning, I put on my shoes, just to take
them off again. I had my legs crossed and
got them on the opposite feet. After splash¬
ing some water at my eyes to "wake me up
(most of which went on my shirt front), I
left for the bam.
Pitts met me at the door of the horse
stable or some such place. He handed me a
thing which he called a curry comb, but it
looked more like the thing that I used to
get my “hide tanned” with. With this and a
brush I started out to curry or comb and
brush the horse’s hair. It must be a lady
horse or why would they bother to comb it?
Wonder if I have to curl it and brush the
horses’ teeth too? My one instruction was
to brush the mane on the right. After watch¬
ing my weak attempts, Pitts curried the first
horse and showed me what the mane was.
I don’t know why the long hair on their neck
is called mane, unless it is because it is on
the main part of the horse — the part that
holds the head.
Pitts went on to milk and I started on tins,
other horse. Good, here’s a good place to
start; there’s a large mud cake on his
shoulder. As I lit into it, the horse Lt out a
scream and closed his mouth on my arm,
while a gravel crusher in the shape of a
horse’s hoof missed my back by 99/100 of
an inch, taking the main part of my pants
and all of my nerve with it. Just then Pitts
yelled, “Watch that sore on its shoulder,”
Fine time to be telling me that. I’d better
watch my life insurance or my widow and
fatherless children would be in the poor-
house. “Put the harness on”.
“Sure”.
The so-called harness is a big pile of
leather, straps, buckles, rings, etc., with two
big sticks at one end.
My book, “Farming for Beginners,” said
to put the collar on first. That must be that
big hoop-like thing. A collar usually goes
around the neck; so, I proceeded to slip it
over the horse’s head and down its neck
when a buckle came open and it dropped off.
This time I slipped it around his neck and
buckled it.
Finally after getting my belt and show
strings untangled from the harness, Old man
Pitts showed me the right way to put them
on.
I’ll soon get a rest. All I have to do is to
put the harness on the other horse and go
to the house.
Easier said than done. For the Old Gray
Mare decided to take an early morning
walk. After chasing her around half the
United States, I coaxed her in with an apple
which I gave her. She thanked me by mash¬
ing the big claw on the left hand side of
my foundation.
Limping and sweating like a horse, I
reached the house to be greeted by Pitts’
voice, “Eat a big breakfast. There’s a day’s
work ahead of us.”
“Breakfast? Day’s work ahead? When
does the next bus leave for the city? Good
bye, Mr. Pitts. It’s been “good” to have
known you. I’ll write to the draft board and
tell them to send your son home. That is if I
live. I’m afraid I have cholera or something.
What? That’s a disease of hogs. Thank good¬
ness, it’s not of horses.”
Waiting
Elinor White
I search my heart and fail to find the words
I want to say.
I only know I am alone and wait for you
today.
For many a day I’ve waited now your lovely
smile to see,
Until I wonder as I wait if you are missing
me.
And then a comfort comes to me; I know
not why or how,
And I know that you still love me, but can¬
not come just now.
I know you have a duty, one both honorable
and great,
Forgive my fearful doubting; I am content
to wait.
Christmas Shoppers
Connie Ellington
At this season of the year, there are the
usual last minute shoppers who want the best
and pay the least for gifts to fill ’ole Santa’s
bag on Christmas Eve. Since I am working
in a local department store, we see and put
up with all these; but, of course, we must
remember that the customer is always right.
This Christmas all the customers seem to
want something unusual when we don’t even
have the usual. I wonder if they know
there’s a war on.
There’s the husband shopping for his
wife’s gift. He wants something like a night
gown.
“Size?”
“Well, let me see, she’s about so big.”
“Thirty-six?”
“No, not that big, but on second thought
maybe so without her girdle”. So I struggle
to find a nice and, of course, an inexpensive
gown that I think would suit his taste.
Here comes my next customer; I wonder
what this will bring. “What size shirt do you
think will fit my little Hank?”
Taken back quite a bit I answer, “Just
how little is your Hank?”
“Well, he’s 9 years old, but he is big for
his age.” (little Hank?)
“This is a ten,” I reply. “Does that look
about right?”
“Oh, yes, but don’t you have any for
seventy cents?”
That always comes sooner or later! Final¬
ly I locate a shirt, and Hank’s mother de¬
parts.
Of course, there’s the little boy who wants
a book for a dime and our cheapest is $1.29.
My next customer wants a corselette. Not
knowing that there is any difference, I give
her a girdle size 44. After some confusion
and embarrassment I locate the right gar¬
ment. Sold !
There are also the ones that select their
gift and just because we don’t have a box,
walk off and don’t buy it. I sometimes
wonder again if they know there’s a war.
So goes the life of an employee, trying to
aid the public and make a little money on
the side. I ask you, “Is it worth it?”
Senior Prophecy
Ladies and gentlemen, in phophetic mood again we bring you your news reporter
sponsored by the Powell Chemical Works, that specializes in modern chemical research!
This is our first broadcast in 1965. Now I give you your news reporter with the done
Willy Craig. P ’
FLASH :
- Sam Preston was rushed to the hospital by the former Daisy Lee Dean and husband
this afternoon following an accident on the railroad. Bob White, engineer, lost control of
the brakes and ran over the left big toenail of this famous rodman. Attending nurse was
Charlotte Cooke. Preston s lawyer for suit is the famous woman attorney, Miss Marv
Rose O’Brien .
Alvin Cooke j usrt became junior partner in the Haney Pharmacy Co., now to be
known as The Haney-Cook Co. Cook’s former assistant Lois Steppe, will now become chief
Pharmacist in this great company .
- The distinguished Major Jimmy Reese of the U. S. Army Air Corps is to speak be¬
fore the students of Knapp s Finishing Schol for Finer Girls this afternoon. Other guests
will be Mary Gray Craig, chaperon of the same school, and Mary Etta Cash, the noted
psychoanalyst who is also an expert with the Ouija board. Society editor of the “Times,”
Lucille Moses, will also be present .
- C. G. Speck, Esq. artist, has just painted Callie Baker, the famous model. She is
now home trying to get the paint off .
- Viola Kelly, only woman sports editor of national renown, reports that Calvin and
Rudy Via have retired from (the pitching staff of the New York Yankees. It is rumored
that part of the Yankee team is going with them to form the New York Rebels .
I’ll be back in a flash .
John Henderson, owner of the Waynesboro Cafe, is in the hospital recuperating
from injuries inflicted by Ida Almarode, manager of the Southern Restaurant, while trying
to steal his chef, Verlie Marion. Head nurse of his case, Helen Waller, says he will be able
to walk after about a week more of special care by Elinor WTiite, private nurse .
- And now, a word from our sponsor....
P. C.-M. B. P. P. C.-M. B. P
Powell’s Chemicals — Make Better Products
Powell’s Chemicals — Make Better Products
And now back to your news reporter with the dope, Willie Craig— Flash ! !
Leigh Ball, famous Chicago Bear football star, has just resigned to take up job as
head football coach at the University of Virginia, replacing Jimmy Leitch. The girls of the
University are also to have a new physical education director. She is Betty Ann Hicks,
former student at the University .
Secretaries Angela Harris, Selda Layton, and Christine Hoy are bringing up law
suit against George Barksdale, owner of Barksdale’s Moderne Furniture Store, for breach
of promise. He is now going with his fourth secretary, Jean Coffey .
- James Taylor and his assistant photographer, Jake Evans, have been hired by the
“Farm Journal” magazine to photograph their cover girl, Mary Alice Kerlin....
- The latest political issue!
- Senator Byrd, (Dem., Va.) claims it’s unconstitutional for Socialist Senator Black-
well to be too social with his secretaries, Ellen Moyer and Phyllis Cline.
- Scott Nininger has just signed Jane Layman to sing with his orchestra. She is to
make $1,000 per week, one week a year .
- Charlene Armentrout’s new book, has been bought and published by Cris Coyner,
managing editor of the News- Virginian. This is Charlene’s first successful book and is
entitled “The Last Chance.” _
- Louise Sayre has received $20,000 for her flower farm. The purchaser, Robert
Jenkins, who just hired Frank Taylor, chemist, is trying to create sweet smelling ermine.
His secretary, Jean Gumm, informed me of this at 2 p.m .
- Nora Critzer, just married Rhudine Layton and Seretha Taylor. This is legal be¬
cause Nora Critzer is a preacher and can marry any woman to her man.
- Loula Hanger has just accepted a position as a technician in the laboratory of our
sponsor .
- Kenneth Dunn has just been made manager of the Du Pont “Wreck.” His first
assignment was to hire Connie Ellington, the burlesque queen. He then proceeded to hire
airline hostess, Myrtle Henderson, to take care of the guests, as they sometimes go up in the
air over Connie .
- A new advertisement used by Paul Jones is this: “Does you kitchen sink? If so,
see Paul Jones, plumber.”
- Haliburton Baylor and Phyllis Showeis have accepted position a It W. H. S. as in¬
dustrial arts teacher and dietitian, respectively.
- It has been said that Ruby Wagner reminds us of Vera Vague. This is because she
is very vague ....
- Ladies and gentlemen, we have with us three satisfied housewives. They have
been using Powell’s Pink Pills for Pooped-out-Persons with Petered-out-Personalities for
three years. The former Misses Frances Lafferty, Margaret Hanshaw, and Edith Fitzgerald.
Are you girls satisfied with Powell’s Products ? Thank you very much.
- Dr. Jean Wellington Bratton, world famous baby specialist, has just received a
medal for the only doctor in the world 'to have delivered sextets .
- Back to your news reporter -
- Ladies and gentlemen, your news reporter has just heard that after 20 years of
waiting for advancement, Pfc. C. J. Beardsworth was just busted to buck private for ask¬
ing Sgt. Thomas Vicars, “Does your side walk?”
- And that completes our program till next year at this same time.
Gardez Votre Foi
Lily A. McGann
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Don’t let him die!”
These words came harshly between the set
teeth of the heavily-bearded sailor. “A soul
like that has no right to death.” The tender
words had a queer ethereal sound in that
bloody hell on earth; they were as out of
place as Golden Gates opening to disclose
the steps that lead to Hades.
A young sailor lay twisted and torn on a
deck speckled with the bodies of his com¬
rades who had preceded him in the descent
to death. The older man’s voice broke as he
spoke his first message to God, “Don’t let
him die!” How ironical those words sounded
in this war torn atmosphere of hate where
men are as daggers on an unbroken course
to the heart of another mortal.
With a sob, he stopped to gather the inert
form of his friend into his arms. A moment
later he disappeared below deck. The guns
continued to roar. Minutes seemed to drag
as slowly as the moon in its course through
the heavens — and all the while he continued
to hear the words that had grown so very
old in such a short while. “He’s dead, of
course! He’ll never live again. He’s dead, of
course! He’ll never live again.” The words
beat a weird, savage tatoo on the benumbed
brain of a man who had previously looked
at the world through steel-rimmed spectac¬
les. An empty, hollow laugh resounded in the
deadly silence of his heart as he remembered
those words. His own words! “There is no
such thing as love, hate, and human emo¬
tions.” The love he felt for the dying man!
The hate he felt for the men responsible!
These emotions choked him as he bent to
catch the words of a man who was speaking
his last.
A strange light was in the young sailor’s
eyes as he whispered, “Gardez Votre Foi —
tell her, Gardez Votre — ” the words broke
off as he offered his soul to his creator with
the half-human, half-beast cry of the lost.
The older man crumpled to the floor. “Oh,
no! Dear God, he cannot die! no, no — !”
With tears in my throat aching to be re¬
leased, I forced my mind away from the
soul-killing scene that had occupied the
chambers of my mind for so long. The very
earth seemed to cry, and the winds wailed
an ancient death song, replacing the lullaby
that had been mine so many worlds ago.
Again I could see that tired, beaten old sea
man standing on my porch, nervously finger¬
ing an already crumpled sailor’s hat. His
faded old eyes were fathoms deep as he
struggled to soften the blow that must in¬
evitably be dealt. Again I heard his voice
soften as he spoke those words, “Gardez
Votre Foi, love.”
I caught my breath on a sob. My knees
shook as I rose from the porch chair. Cast¬
ing my pebble on the lurid pool of memory,
I whispered, “Gardez Votre Foi, love. Oh,
keep your faith!”
My Favorite Sport
Sam Preston
It was one cold morning in the month of
December that I was awakened by an un-
usally cold gust of wind. The morning was
cold and crisp. As I looked out of the win¬
dow, I could see sparkling and glistening
icicles hanging from all of the trees and
houses. My heart was in my throat. I was
so nervous that I could hardly dress as vi¬
sions of the river with a smooth, clear, and
glossy coat of ice all over it came into my
mind. I was dressed and down stairs in the
kitchen getting something to eat in no time
flat. The foot went down in a few gulps (if
not less), and I was on my way with high
hopes of seeing what I had visioned.
On the way out I met a couple of the boys
who were just about as anxious to get there
as I was; so, we all three headed for the
river. We rounded the bend, and there it
was in all of its glory spread out as far as
eye could see and even clearer and smoother
than I had expected. My heart was in my
mouth as I stepped out on the ice to test it
for thickness. Then the big moment came
when I found it was all right. My shoe
strings seemed to be so messed up that I
thought I could never get my skates tied.
Then as I glided out over the ice, a smile
came over my face. I knew that there was
no other sport that could equal this one.
Just Another Day
Evelyn Arnold
“Ebby! Ebby! get up,” my sister is saying
and she closes the door. I lie there under the
warm covers dreading the ordeal of the day.
I finally throw the covers back, put on my
robe and slippers, and drag to the bathroom
to wash my face and closed eyes.
Then I slowly clop, clop down the steps
to breakfast table and mumble to my mother
for a glass of orange juice.
After I have had this and have talked to
everybody, I am awake. I go back upstairs,
brush my teeth, and debate what I’m going
to wear after I have asked my sister’s opin¬
ion. After debating awhile longer, I drag out
something.
I start dressing. When I am about half¬
way through, my girl friend comes. I have
to stop to tell her something that happened
after I left her the day before. Then I re¬
sume my dressing talking the whole time.
Now, I’m finally ready. When I go down
stairs to put my wraps on, I can’t find my
gloves. Oh! there they are with my scarf
in my drawer, where I had never thought
of looking because that was the most logical
place.
Now I am ready to leave. I am out the
door and my mother calls me, “Evelyn, have
you got your lunch money?” Of course, I
haven’t. She gives it to me and we are off.
By now we have thought of something
else to chat about, and that continues all the
way to school.
We are finally there. We go to our lockers,
take off our coats and gloves, leaving our
scarfs on. We get out our combs and go up¬
stairs to comb our hair. We barely get
started when the bell rings. We rush through,
run downstairs to our homeroom, arriving
just in time.
We all settle in the back of the typing
room around a table, discuss past and future
events, and indulge in some more gossip. The
bell rings for classes.
Another day has started.
First Date
Gloria Hicks
Scented bath
Lilac smell
Puff in powder
Digs a well.
Much used lipstick
Comb and brush
Rouge and perfume
In a rush.
Dating dress
Cleaned and pressed
Of a sudden
I am dressed.
Downstairs hurry
Is he here?
I’m not ready
Tell the dear.
Shall we leave?
Here we go
For a sundae
And a show.
Gary Cooper,
Could I fall
For that one
Guy out of all?
Ten forty-five
Getting late
What a pleasure
My first date!
A German’s Diary
Charles Campbell
Late Fall of 1939
Today we entered a small French village.
It is a beautiful little village. It will make a
good place for the people of my country to
live.
Reinforcements are being brought to the
front, and we will rest here for a few days.
I shall be happy when our soldiers drive the
French from the land that should be ruled
by the master race. The French are not fit to
rule such a nice and rich land.
One of my men found a wine cellar and
we will take food from the villagers for a
celebration. Hell, Hitler!
Next Day
It was a wonderful party. Everyone was
happy, even the French women.
Last night I slept in a nice warm bed. For
supper I had six eggs and plenty of meat
and butter. Even at home we didn’t get
such wonderful food. We will take it all
from such weaklings. We will conquer the
world. Hell, Hitler!
Summer of 1944
June 6
Today the Americans invaded Normandy.
I hate them as much as the Feuhrer says we
should. They will be driven into the sea by
tomorrow. Heil, Hitler!
June 7
Where is the Luftwaffe? The Americans
have pushed us back still further. We might
not stop them. Heil, Hitler!
June 18
I have not had time to keep up my diary.
I have not eaten in four days. I have been
reduced in rank to a leftenant because I re¬
treated my company. Half of my company
is dead. But I still do my duty as a soldier
of the Fatherland. Heil, Hitler!
June 19
I killed my first American today. There
were three of them in a shell hole eating
chocolate. I got all three of them. I ate the
chocolate. It was wonderful. They were just
the average boys. One of them had a picture
of his wife and two children with him. His
family will be sorry to hear about this. One
had a letter to his sweetheart. They were to
be married when the war is over. I have a
sweetheart, too. What if I should get killed?
And the other one had a letter to his mother.
To find her son dead will break her heart.
What if I should get killed? It would break
my mother’s heart, too. I am sorry I killed
those boys. They have something to fight
for. But what am I fighting for?
Many of our men are surrendering. We
are being beaten for the first time.
June 20
It’s terrible out there today. I was hor¬
rified at the number of dead and wounded.
What is the use of all this killing? I wish it
was all over so everyone except Hitler could
live in peace. I think I will surrender; I will
never have to fight again.
I am wounded. One of my men shot me as
I went to surrender. Two American soldiers
found me and eased the pain, but I know it
is the end. May the Allies free Germany of
the barbarians that have conquered her.
Off In A Flying Start
Cris Coyner
Clang! Clang! Clang! I jumped a foot!
That wasn’t the trolley! It was my alarm
clock annoyingly informing me that 7:30
had made its appearance once more. In a
semiconscious state I raised my arm to a
position slightly above the clock. With all
the strength I could muster I whammed
down upon it. The noise subsided and the
dark chilly atmosphere persuaded me to
linger in the nice, warm haven just a few
minutes longer. This was only temporary
though, for out of the deep silence it came
again. Clang! Clang! Clang! It was my sis¬
ter’s alarm which we used for protection
against this very thing I was engaged in. As
this noise calmed, I heard someone’s feet hit
the floor but suspected they were not mine.
This was confirmed when I abruptly came
into contact with the climate of the north
pole. As I was recovering from the shock,
I realized Sis had just removed my winter
protection and there I lay exposed in my
brief pajamas.
The fact was announced in firm words
that I had exactly fifteen minutes in which
to dress in order to catch my ride to school.
Knowing my time limit in this matter, I
quickly, but involuntarily, changed my bod¬
ily position from that of horizontal to verti¬
cal.
My first task was to clean my bridge-
work; so, off I scooted to the bathroom. I
grabbed my toothbrush, squirted some paste
on it, and jammed it into my mouth. But all
was not well. The paste proved to be shav¬
ing cream and hardly tasted like Colgate’s.
With a quick correction I proceeded to brush
my teeth and then wash my face.
Upon arriving back in the bathroom, I
found I had exactly five minutes to go and
I had about a million things to do; so every¬
thing was on the double. I discovered, firs*
of all, that Sis had on the very skirt and
sweater I had planned to wear; there was
nothing to do but rummage through the
closet and find something else. This morn¬
ing, of all mornings, I found that every skirt
I owned was in sad need of pressing. I finally
decided it didn’t make much difference any
way; so, I shut my eyes and reached for
one. With much ado I put it on. The hem
was dropping in several places but could be
fixed with pins which, by the way, took time
to find.
My choice of sweaters was determined by
the one closest to me. I managed to salvage
a pair of socks from the dresser drawer. This
done I sat down in front of the mirror, but
at the same time I glanced at the clock. Now
my time was limited to two minutes. Instead
of combing my hair, I put on a scarf with n
remark that that could be done at school.
Then Sis, who always dresses in half the
time I do, yelled up the stairs and said our
ride was there. I scrambled to my feet, rac¬
ed down the stairs, and began frantically to
collect my books and slide into my coat. I
fairly flew out the front door and down the
hill making a perfect three-point landing. I
climbed into the car with a sigh of relief and
looked forward to a peaceful day at school.
Infatuation
Frances Humphries
Having reached the matured age of seven
years, I decided that it was time to find my¬
self a boy friend. I was only in the third
grade, and the boy friend I wanted sat right
down the aisle from me. He had the prettiest
blue eyes, but they never looked my way.
He had freckles and blond hair. This was
Scott. He used to bring the teacher an apple
or some violets everyday. This made me
quite jealous, and I began to hate my
teacher. The first thing I decided to do was
to make her jealous. Assuming that this was
the only way to do it, I boldly told Miss
Wheeler that she had no right to try to steal
my boy friend. I told her if she didn’t leave
my Scott alone, I would get my mother to
take her fiance away from her. She laughed
at me and said she would leave him alone.
The next day during reading class, we
were reading aloud the story of “The Sleep¬
ing Beauty.” I told all the girls in my class
that I was the princess and Scott was the
prince that kissed me, I told them that if I
were dead and he should kiss me, I would
wake up and never die again. Scott found
out this and since that day he has never
spoken to me again. I thought surely I would
die, but I got over it.
The next time I fell in love, I was twelve
years old. The boy I was in love with was
twenty-one years old. I thought he was the
most wonderful thing that ever existed. He
had dark hair, all my girl friends said that
he put lard in it, but I thought it was beauti¬
ful. I had seen him many times before I met
him. Here is how I became his acquaintance.
I invited him over to see our new puppies.
He thought they were cute. I didn’t want
him to leave yet so I gave him grapes. After
that I made him play croquet with me.
About seven o’clock that night he left. I in¬
vited him back, naturally. After about two
weeks he still hadn’t come back, not even
to see the puppies. Then I decided maybe if
I found a kitty that was going to have kit¬
tens, Bill would come back again to see
them. I couldn’t find a kitty anywhere.
Then one afternoon when Bill came home
from work, he treated me very coolly. This
hurt my feelings very much. I decided that
I would commit suicide. I was going to jump
off the high sun porch at the back of my
house. Evelyn, my girl friend, was with me. I
told her to tell Bill that if I died that I had
died for him. Hence, she told me to hurry
up and jump because she wanted to talk to
him. Well, I jumped — nothing happened.
Second time — nothing happened. This time
I was very tired. I climbed back up to the
high porch and proceeded to make my third
jump. I was not going to stop jumping until
I was dead. At least I thought that I would
not. I jumped and fell right on my nose! I
knew very well I didn’t want to die for him.
Then I decided I would write to him. I
wrote him a very gummy letter, telling him
I didn’t want to set the world on fire but only
to start a flame in his heart. Writing that
letter was the most disgusting thing that I
could have done. After a while Bill went to
the Navy and I forgot all about him.
Now that all of that kind of flirtation is
over, I am waiting for the test of time to do
away with all my infatuations; and then
maybe I will find the real thing.
Woe Is Me
Peg Fred
Oh, woe is me. Of course, Miss Bush, I
realize that “is” is a part of the verb to be,
and it never takes an object, and that it
ought to be “I,” so I’ll start again.
Oh, woe is I. I’m so unhappy. I consider
themes mankind’s worst curse. Who on earth
ever invented a theme, anyway? I’ll bet it
was a sour old school teacher with horn-
rimmed glasses and, of course, dyed hair.
Thrown in for good measure, there were
probably some rimmed specks, a hooked
nose, false teeth long drooping black dresses
about ten years old. Boy, she must have
been a humdinger! Of course, she would
teach nothing but English, so no one could
possibly escape having her at least once.
Naturally every child who has ever had the
misfortune of walking into her presence has
been proclaimed by this monstrosity to
be notorious for some incredible and for¬
giving crime; such as, running in the halls,
breaking in the lunch line, or horrors of all
horrors, actually walking down the steps at
noon in front of the teacher. Who on earth
could imagine a child of high school age
committing such a sin! Oh, well, that’s part
of youth, doing something wrong just for the
satisfaction of being able to get away with
it. But you can’t expect a teacher, especial¬
ly my invention of one to be that lenient.
Heavens no! That would be too much like
fun.
Well, they say life is one big struggle, so I
suppose we’ll have to learn to put up with
such nightmares as teachers and themes. But
the learning part is what’s killing me. Oh,
woe is me.
Just Sit and Endure It
Larue Niedenthol
I’m a person that gets great enjoyment out
of going to a good movie. That is if the en¬
vironment is to my liking. Some people are
inexcusable “movie pests”. I will name some
types of these “pests”.
First, the one I dislike most is the “pest”
that flops down in front of me and fails to
take off her bigger-than-a-dishpan hat. This,
of course, is topped by a feather or plumes
or whatever-have-you to add to my misery.
I feel like taking a pair of shears and cut¬
ting the whole top of the hat off. But I just
sit and endure it.
Next, comes the man that has no pity
on poor me and buys a bag of potato chips
or peanuts in the shell. Then he proceeds to
crack the bag and the peanut shells with the
least amount of care. To a nervous person
this sounds just like a house falling down or,
worse still, an earthquake. I felt like getting
up and not only smashing the peanuts over
his face but filling his mouth with them as
well. But I just sit and endure it.
Then, it never fails ; there are the restless
people that can never “stay put” in one
seat. They have tried every seat in the
theater before the movie is over; but not
with success. I should like to take a log
chain and chain them down to the seat so
that they will stay rooted, but I just sit and
endure it.
For the person that takes great pleasure
in telling, in which is definitely not a low
voice, another person just what is going to
happen next on the screen, I should like to
take the greatest width of adhesive tape and
paste his mouth shut. But I just sit and en¬
dure it.
Of course, there is the person, usually a
small child, that just loves to kick the back
of my seat, especially when he is excited
over a cowboy picture. Then there is the
child that sits in front of me and “pops” up
every minute because he can’t see-ee. The
long-legged, lanky kind positively has to
stick his feet in the aisle so that I can trip
over them in the dark. There is the kind
that waits until he sits down to take off his
wraps — that’s when I get punched in the
ribs.
There are numerous other “movie pests”
which I could mention, but it would take
too much paper and too many words. I’ve
even run out of ideas for punishment for the
last few. And I’ve given up every hope of
ever sitting through a movie without an in¬
terruption from one of these “movie pests”.
But that’s life for you, and I suppose I’ll
just have to sit and endure it!
Excitement ~r Excitement = Embarrassment
“Miss, would you wait on me?”
“Gee! Could you hurry, I have to catch
the bus?”
“If you don’t mind, please hurry. I have
to be back to work in three minutes.”
“Waitress! ! ! Could I have my check?”
“B-l-o-n-d-i-e! How about some service?”
“H-e-y, Myrt, you wouldn’t let me starve,
would you?”
By these remarks you have no doubt con¬
cluded that I am a waitress at a busy restau¬
rant.
At this moment I am approaching a table
with three handsome soldiers, but this is
nothing unusual now, for I have gotten used
to good-looking soldiers popping up after my
spilling coffee down the front of my uniform
and being too busy to renew any make-up
for at least fifteen minutes. Now I am at
the table. The boys want only drinks; so
that means they would be there for only a
few minutes. Let me see the one with dark
hair and eyes (gee! he’s cute. I bet he’s a
Greek) wants a cup of hot tea; the sorta
ugly one with glasses wants coffee. The one
that looks a little old wants a chocolate soda.
That’s all.
I have only six other orders, but this is
the shortest; so I’ll go and serve it first. I
grab a tea ball and reach for a cup — only
finding the shelf empty. So then I grab a
tray and start for the kitchen, but some
people deciding to leave are taking up all
the spaces in the aisle to put on their wraps.
At last I am there and back with a whiz!
It was such a whiz I heard someone remark
as I whizzed by, “There goes a P-38,” Now
I have a cup and a tea ball, but I have to
journey back to the kitchen for a tray of
saucers. Okay! I am all set. I turn the hot
water on and I’ll have the tea all ready to
serve. Oh! my back! There’s not a drop
of hot water. But here comes Mr. G. to the
rescue. He puts on some water while I am
serving the soda and coffee.
Meantime my other customers are doing
everything under the sun to get my atten¬
tion. But it wouldn’t be fair to recognize one
and not the other — so I ignore them all and
continue serving the soldiers.
Gee! Whiz! did you see the look on that
guy’s face when I set the soda down — And
look at the one looking at his coffee! ! By
the way, what is that little tag doing swing¬
ing down that coffee cup? Yes! I hate to
admit it, but I have served that Romeo’s
coffee with a tea ball. But what’s wrong with
the soda? Not really? Well, I am terribly
sorry, but I was sure you said chocolate soda
instead of chocolate sundae — Yet again this
is nothing unusual; it is part of my daily
routine. It is exciting — sometimes embar¬
rassing! If you would like to join me, call 73
(Southern Restaurant).
History
September 1941 — That’s the year the class
of 1945 entered high school. Upon arriving
in high school — in a very good state of mind
— we soon found that we were definitely un¬
der classmen. The freshmen weren’t the pri¬
vileged characters, but that didn’t bother us.
Bow-ribbons, pants rolled up to the knees,
and bewildered expressions were prevalent
among the fashions worn by the freshmen.
Pigtails and skiballs were our favorite coif¬
fures. As all freshmen are, we were very op¬
timistic, cocky, and inclined to believe we
could lick the world. Our freshmen year was
a very eventful one. About one-fourth of the
Choral Club were freshmen. This group
climaxed a year of work by taking part in
the baccalaureate and commencement exer¬
cises. A few members of the class were re¬
presented on the Jr. News-Virginian Staff,
the weekly school publication in the local
paper. The Freshmen Dramatic Club gave
several performances — two of which were
“Wildcat Willy” and “Ring and the Look.”
One day of this year that will be especially
remembered by our class was the day that
the Torch- Y Club held its annual initiation.
The town was shocked in general by the
freshmen girls who sallied forth barefooted
and wearing very short skirts. As for the
sports item, many freshmen made the Jun¬
ior Varsity teams. Some were members of
the Student Council, Social Committee and
the Assembly Committee.
September 1942 — And then we were Soph¬
omores! Such complete joy! By now we real¬
ly had a name: — wise fools. During this year
we began our march toward great success.
Why, all around us sat famous doctors, pro¬
fessors, governors, lawyers — perhaps even
presidents — undiscovered as yet, but quite
likely to be there. Our class was one having
great ambitions. This year many of us ven¬
tured out for the first time since our fresh¬
men days of preparation. In the sports line
the sophomores were well represented.
Many of the class again contributed to the
publication of the “Jr. News-Virginian.” A
Victory Corps was organized and a large
number of membership were sophomores. It
was satisfying year and we looked forward
to 1943 with eagerness.
September 1943 — Juniors! This was the
year some of our classmates became star
players in leading sports. In the various pub¬
lic activities sponsored by the clubs, we were
again honored by the selection of juniors to
fill roles in plays — two such performances
were “Boarding House” and “Cottonland
Minstrel”. This year the publishing of the
“Jr. News-Virginian” was discontinued,
much to the disappointment of many persons
who were especially interested in journal¬
ism. Again our class was well represented in
the Choral Club, Student Council, and in all
sports. We became an entertaining group,
too. Our activities for the year reached a
climax when the juniors gave the junior-
senior banquet, featuring a guest speaker,
student speakers, good food, and plenty of
good entertainment.
September 1944 — Did someone say sen¬
iors? It didn’t seem possible, but it was true.
Dignified? No, we are really just freshmen
minus the pigtails. Many of this year’s
“crack” players have gleaned from among
us, football, boys’ and girls’ basketball, and
all the rest. Our activities for the year have
included a play — the Varsity Show featuring
displays of Waynesboro High’s favorite
talent — the annual, and finally the crowning
achievement of graduation. As seniors, we
want to pay tribute to boys that have left
our class during these four years to join
those already serving our country in the
armed forces — Jim Lafferty, Sonny Hart-
barger, Rudolph Wright, Frank Courtney,
Bill Meetur, and Therman Matheny. To
these we wish the best of luck in the future.
During the past four years we have gather¬
ed new knowledge, made many friends, and
gathered memories which will long be re¬
membered by all of us. We will forever be
thankful to Waynesboro High in general,
and to the faculty in particular.
This has been the history of the class of
1945
A N erve Racking
Experience
Betty Ann Hicks
Nervous? Kid, I was scared stiff. I was
like the ball player before the big game. I
was so shaky, I just couldn’t get my hands to
cooperate, and I guess that was the reason
that everything else went wrong.
No matter what sound reached my ears, I
imagined it was a knock at our front door.
That knock, Oh! that perilous knock was the
turning point of my life. When, and if, it
came, my entire life would be changed; it
was almost like a transformation.
The knock; at last, it came. The sound
wasn’t, as it should have been, music to my
ears, but like the toll of the death bell. Sud¬
denly I lost all my courage, which I admit
wasn’t much to begin with. I sank heavily
into the first chair I could reach. I found
myself taking big gulps of breath; no matter
how hard I tried I couldn’t breathe smooth¬
ly or even quietly. Cheer up, old girl, your
first date won’t be that bad. I tried to com¬
fort myself with these thoughts, but to no
avail. At last, I courageously walked into
the room where he was waiting. Gosh, he
certainly didn’t look as cute as he had when
I gave him the date, and most of all, he
didn’t look the least bit scared.
Later, I only hoped I had put on as good
an act as he had because he told me he had
been so scared that he had walked around
the block three times before venturing the
knock at the door.
First dates aren’t so bad — no, not after
you get used to them.
The Day of Days
Loula Hanger
It was the day of a great event for us
children. Earlier than usual we had jumped
out of our beds and had run to the window to
see if it was raining or if the day was to be
fair as the weatherman had predicted. After
looking and finding only a few white, fleecy
clouds as a background of icy blue sky, we
decided that the day was going to be wonder¬
ful. The air was crisp and cold. It was the
kind that made what we called “smoke”
when we blew our breath upon it. The sun
was shining bright above our heads. Yes,
the day looked as if it were just what the
doctor had ordered.
Already sounds rose from the kitchen be¬
low. These sounds suggested the preparation
of breakfast. Almost before we could bat an
eyelid, Mother was calling up the stairs,
“Hurry, children, get out of your pajamas
and into some clothes and don’t forget to
wash your face and hands. Breakfast is al¬
most ready.”
We did not need to be told that, for we
could smell for ourselves the odors of bacon,
eggs, and boiling coffee, although for us it
would be hot chocolate. As for hurrying, well
most of the time we finished in such a hurry
that our faces and hands were conveniently
forgotten. This morning, however, we did
everything just right, for today was a very
special day in the year.
Soon breakfast was finished and we were
being dressed all over again; this time more
carefully and in our Sunday best. We were
all bundled into the car and, finally, we set
off. We had only a short distance to go, but
we were so impatient that it seemed as if it
were miles and miles. Someone started to
count the cows in the meadows as we drove
past them. Often when we went for drives,
we played a game. One of us would count
all the cows on one side of the road, and an¬
other would count those on the other side.
The object of this game was to see who could
get and keep the greater number of cows.
Today, this game soon lost its zest. For¬
tunately for us, only a short distance re¬
mained to go.
Our arrival was well announced. With the
dogs barking at our heels and squeals of
delight from all of us, we ran from the car
to meet Grandmother and Grandfather, our
aunts and uncles and, of course, our cousins.
There were ten children including us. James,
a year older that I, William, Ann, Judy,
John, Billy and Virginia.
We hardly waited to say hello to every¬
one before we slipped away to play. We ran
about everywhere looking into the barn,
climbing to the hay loft and finally running
into the house at the calls of our mothers.
On Thanksgiving, the day of days, dinner
is the main event. When we were called to
eat, no time was wasted in getting there.
Grandfather always gave thanks before we
ate. As children, we sat impatiently waiting
for him to finish. With the appetite we had
worked up while playing and with the won¬
derful dishes that Grandmother had spent
hours preparing, almost anyone would want
to begin eating. One of Grandmother’s typi¬
cal Thanksgiving dinners would consist of
such dishes as roast turkey with stuffing,
sliced ham, scalloped oysters, giblet gravy,
corn souffle, fluffy mashed potatoes, lima
beans, spiced-apple and grapefruit salad,
cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie with maple
meringue, corn muffins and rolls. To top this
off she prepared for us peppermint ice cream
with pecan cake.
After dinner all of us retired to the living
room. Grandfather gathered all of his grand¬
children around him and told us stories. Soon
it was time for us to go home. Reluctantly,
we said good-by and drove home, tired but
happy.
I am sure that memories which will linger
near even when I am a very old woman will
have among them those of the hours I spent
at Grandmother’s on Thanksgiving Day.
The Day of Book
Reports
Larue Niedenthol
“I think this is a very interesting book
and I’m sure everyone in the class will
thoroughly enjoy it as I have.” With these
words the girl in front of the class was un¬
consciously spelling my doom.
In the back of my mind a little voice was
whispering, “It’s your turn next, your turn
turn next, your turn next.” Feverishly, I
scanned the open pages of the book before
me. “I must not forget my own opinion of
the book,” I thought numbly.
Suddenly, my English teacher was saying,
“Larue, you may be next.”
I tore my eyes from the book and looked
up. Everyone was turning in his seat to look
at me. Somewhere in the room I heard a
nervous giggle. “I’m sure they are laughing
at the scared look on my face,” I thought.
Everybody could see me plainly from where
I sat in the back of the room. Shaking all
over, knees feeling weak, I rose from my
desk and started to the front of the room.
My face was hot and flushed; and my hands,
cold and clammy. After what seemed ages of
walking, I finally reached the front. I
glanced over a sea of up-turned faces; some
wearing a false smile to hide their lack of
confidence; others looking grim and frown¬
ing; and a few looking triumphant. The lat¬
ter were the ones who had given their re¬
ports.
I gritted my teeth and opened my mouth
to speak. No words came out! I tried again;
my face turned a shade redder as a snicker
or two came to my ears. This time some¬
thing like this came out, “M-M-My book is
Daniel Boone and the author is P. Key-
Gulp!” My voice sounded unreal and much
too loud in my ears. But the first sentence
was out, and surprisingly enough it gave me
confidence to continue. With this confidence
to continue, I finished my report. “Well,” I
thought, “that wasn’t so bad after all!” I
walked proudly back to my desk.”
I Do Believe
Mary Ann Trieshmann
Martha Halloway’s large hands were mak¬
ing short work of a pile of sadly abused little
boy’s clothes. Pleasantly conscious of a dis¬
agreeable task nearly finished, she opened
her lips to sing a little tune - . Suddenly
the song was gone.
Slightly irritated, she strove to recall it.
But her mind absolutely refused to function.
In place of the tune that had been running
in her head was a feeling that she was
needed. If anyone needed her, he would call.
But the feeling was not one to dismiss light¬
ly. She tried to go on with her work, but
even her fingers moved reluctantly.
Annoyed at something she didn’t under¬
stand, she tried to remember an unfinished
task that might be on her mind. That too,
she defeated.
Then the silence became oppressive. Like
all mothers, she was more accustomed to
listening for silence than noise. She had been
completely absorbed in her task, she couldn’t
recall when she had last heard a sound. It
seemed like years, when she tried to remem¬
ber.
Knowing that her mother had no patience
with anything that anything was psychic,
she tried to hide what she was beginning to
feel when she called, “Mother! Oh, Mother!
Have you heard the children lately?”
Very sensitive to all her daughter’s moods
since she had lost her husband, Martha’s
mother knew immediately that she was up¬
set about something. She answered at once,
“No, Martha. But can’t the child play with
other children without your watching him?
He’s nearly seven — plenty old enough to take
care of himself.”
Still not caring to explain her strange
feeling to her mother, she came into the
kitchen, answering, “Of course. I know I
should let him alone. I heard that spoiled
boy of Mrs. Herrick’s tease him about being
a mama’s boy. I try, Mother, honestly I do.
But if anything should happen to him too —
Well, he’s all I have to live for now.”
“Please, Martha! Don’t start that again!
You are letting grief poison your whole
life. You must make yourself believe that
his father would rather be dead than tied to
a wheelchair.”
“I’d have loved caring for him.”
“But he wouldn’t have loved having you.”
“I suppose not.”
“I know not. And while we are on the
subject, you mustn’t let little Ward be all
you have to live for. It isn’t right. Life it¬
self is enough to live for.”
“That’s sentimental stuff! I was only tell¬
ing the truth. If you’d rather I wouldn’t, I’ll
pretend that I love sponging on you and
Dad and that I’d be delighted to have noth¬
ing to live for but three square meals a
day — ”
“Martha! Please!”
“O. K., Mother. Sorry.”
She wished heartily that she had told her
mother at once how she really felt. It would
have saved renewing her agony that had only
recently become bearable.
The two women worked busily for a few
minutes.
The brow of the younger was dark with
unhappiness and with a growing expression
of something more than unhappiness. It
could scarcely have been called fear, yet
that word comes nearest to describing it.
At last she could stand it no longer. She
burst out, “Mother, did you see where the
children went?”
“Oh, Martha, for heaven’s sake!”
“I can’t help it!” She cried. “Where did
they go?”
“Down to Camp’s pasture,” crossly. “Can
you think of a place more harmless?”
“It isn’t that. I just feel that I must see
him. Please, Mother, try to undertsand.”
Martha hurried to the front porch and
looked down the dusty, quiet little street
that ended at the pasture. She could see four
children huddled down in an old, abandoned
car. They had their heads together and
seemed very interested in what they were
doing. They looked contented enough — and
certainly safe.
Smiling guiltily, she turned to go back in
the house.
Before her hand had touched the knob,
the same feeling swept over her. It was dis¬
gusting, but she just couldn’t help it!
“Well”, she thought, “I’ll call him and
give him some cookies to take back to the
boys. He won’t mind coming for that.”
Feeling less guilty, she called, “Wardie!”
No answer . . . She knew he could hear
her.
“Ward!”
Still no answer.
For an instant the blood surged angrily
to her face. Then a panic that nothing could
still swept her from head to foot.
“Ward Halloway, Jr.!” she fairly scream¬
ed. “Come home this instant!”
“Gosh, guys, she means business. I gotta
go.”
“Aw for Pete’s sake! Ain’t you never go¬
ing to tell her you don’t have to mind? I
told my mom, and she never did a thing!”
“I can’t, Chuck. You don’t know my mom.
She’s swell to me, but I can’t sass.”
“It was swell of her to give you this old
stuff of your dad’s. We ain’t had so much
fun for a long time. Hurry and finish string-
in’ them, Jim.”
Martha had started down the street. Her
knees shook so she could hardly stand.
With a hasty promise to return, her son
hurried to see what she wanted.
“Why didn’t you come when I called,
son?”
“Aw, Mom, I was playing.”
“What were you playing that was so im¬
portant that you couldn’t come when Mother
called?” Martha stalled. Anything to keep
him near her until this ridiculous feeling
ceased.
“I gotta hurry — but I’ll tell you.”
Her mind had already passed from what
he had been doing to what a comfort he was
to her. A lifetime wasn’t going to be long to
watch him grow. She wanted to do some¬
thing noble, self-sacrificing for him and
could, for the moment, think of nothing
better than, “Would you like some cookies
for the boys?”
“Gee, yeah!”
“Chocolate or ginger-snaps?”
“Mother!” called Martha. “Please bring
the boys some ginger cookies.”
“Guys!” shrilled Ward. “Cookies!”
They began to pile out of the car, the
Herrick boy last as a final contempt of even
that kind of order.
Just as her mother stepped on the porch,
exactly coinciding with the slamming of the
screen door —
“Bang! ! !” Like the slamming of a thou¬
sand screen doors. There was a noise that
rattled the windows, and hurt her ears until
she threw up her hands to cover them, scat¬
tering cookies all over the porch.
Martha clutched her small son to her.
He struggled to get away to see what had
happened.
“Oh, son, what is it?”
“Let me see?” he screamed.
“Eddie said not to slam the door on them
or nothing, or we’d all be dead. He said the
little thing in Dad’s box were dynamite caps.
We were playing clearin’ fields.”
Martha’s eyes flew to her mother’s; their
gaze held.
With an almost exalted expression Martha
said slowly in her clear, sweet voice, “That
box held the tools his father was using when
he was killed. I wanted him to remember his
father. I gave it to him this morning to play
with.”
“Oh, Mother, I’m not raising him alone!
His father knew he was in danger and
warned me!”
Her mother began, “If you choose to be¬
lieve such — ”
“I do believe.”
My First Date
John Henderson
I was becoming a sixth grader at the very
tender age of eleven. I went to school by
force of habit and especially on this certain
Friday. I might as well have stayed at home
on that day because I had a date the coming
night and what work I did wouldn’t fill an
abscessed molar. I, a man of my age on his
first date, felt alive in myself.
We finished school at 2:30; but as far as
I was concerned, I had finished when I got
there. I left school and went down to buy
myself a new tie — my first tie. Then I went
home and rested for a while, for I felt sure
that I would need it for the oncoming night.
I got up and dressed, but when I was put¬
ting my shoes on, I felt a sharp pain in my
right side. Well, for the life I was going to
have tonight, I could forget that, but I
didn’t.
Finally, the clock said 8 p.m. As I bent
down to the phone to call up my, as you say,
date, the pain hit me again. This time I
couldn’t come up for air. I hit the floor,
the phone hit me, and the phone book hit
the phone. I was out, very much so. The
next thing I knew, or thought I knew, was
that the doctor was operating on the spot.
It felt like a screw driver going through my
abdomen. I found out later it was only his
tiny thumbs tenderly tapping my right side
for appendicitis. So what do we do next? We
take a little cruise out to the Community
Hospital. Later I found out I had appendi¬
citis.
When I was finally well enough for some¬
one to see me, who came walking in but the
spring chicken with whom I had the date.
There was but one thing to do and I did it —
I fainted. I made up my mind no more dates
until I got a physical and mental check-up.
Thought
Leora Knapp
Can someone tell me of this thing I’ve
sought?
Can’t you just merely say
Or is it in saying that you could tell
The way — and the manner of thought?
I think that now I am thinking,
Just writing in this way
How casual might it come!
Oh! how long does it stay?
It’s something spontaneous — I think.
You see I did just then.
But how long at will — I am not still.
And what did I think just then?
I think you had something to tell me,
What is it? And what is it that you and I
have sought?
Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the manner
of thought!
It comes, they say, as quickly as it goes.
But who brings it? Who takes it?
We are not taught.
From where does it come and where does it
go — your thought?
Cigarette Smokers In General
James Reese
Did you ever work in a grocery store dur¬
ing a cigarette shortage? If you ever did or
do now, my aching back pains deeply for
you. As you probably know, cigarettes, like
any other hard-to-get item, have to be put
on sale at certain times. By doing this the
limited supply is fairly distributed. If you
didn’t do this, the few lucky, unoccupied
creatures of various types would get the
entire amount.
You probably won’t believe what I am
about to say, but I don’t mind because if
you don’t it’s nothing new. There is one
bunch of “fag-fiends” who come to the door
every evening on their way from work. They
just stick their heads in the door and take a
deep breath. From that one powerful sniff
they can tell right off if there are any cigar¬
ettes in the racks. Of course, if there are
any, they come charging in for the kill like
a herd of wild, Jersey bulls.
While standing in the checking stand, we
notice a very small meek looking old lady
enter. She walks down by the produce rack
to make everybody think she wants some
vegetables, but she doesn’t see anything that
suits her. Then she throttles back and idles
over to the middle of the store. She suddenly
makes a ninety degree turn and heads for
the checking stand. When she finally arrives,
she asks what brands we have. The checker
tells her we have Camels, Luckies, Chester¬
fields, and Phillip Morris. A despondent look
comes over her face. With a sorrowful dull¬
ness in her eyes and a pitiful, worried frown
on her brow, she looks up and says, “Don’t
you have any Marvels”?
Then, naturally, there is the law-abiding
colored boy who has to buy a pack of coffin-
nails on Saturday because Sunday is a day
of rest and he can’t roll his own on that day.
It is all very disgusting, but even in war,
a job is a job and money is money.
Hoping This Passes
Bob Burns
Today you were in English class. Again
you were reminded of the theme for mid¬
term exam. You don’t think much about the
theme. It won’t be so hard. You’ve written
themes before and made fairly good grades.
But no, you think, this is mid-term; you
have to make a better grade.
After you’re home you sit down in your
favorite chair to think. What are you going
to write about? Your teacher suggested
several subjects — a childhood event that lin¬
gers, happiness without money, my greatest
defect. No, you can’t think of anything in¬
teresting on any of those subjects. Besides,
this is the mid-term theme.
You unconsciously chew your eraser; then
you glance at the clock. Already fifteen
minutes have gone by and you haven’t
started.
Maybe if you do your math something will
come to you. You go to work on it, somehow
you drag through, stand up, stretch, then sit
down again with a yawn. What’s wrong with
your brain, can’t you think anymore?
You’re a little sleepy and it’s only nine
o’clock. Why not wiggle a little deeper into
the chair and have a nap? It’ll relax your
mind, you try to convince yourself.
When the clock chimes, you awake to the
sudden realization that you’ve overslept.
Why it’s ten o’clock and you haven’t thought
of a single thing to write about, that’s it,
you dreamed about it. Write about what a
hard time you had thinking of something to
write about.
Here’s hoping this passes.
Snow and Women
James Reese
Did you ever stop to think how much
snow and women are alike? Except for the
fact that snow is always cold they are al¬
most identical. Both are beautiful at first,
but as snow melts and becomes ugly so some
women seem to melt and wash their own
beauty away. By this I don’t mean that 1
think all old women are ugly, because usual¬
ly it is the men who look like an old bark¬
skinned logs when they get old.
A woman is like a snow drift. It looks all
right, but you had better not walk into it. If
you stay away from it, it won’t hurt you. It’s
amazing how easy you can get in something
too deep.
I myself like to walk in the snow, especial¬
ly at night. Some people like to walk with
girls, but you know how easy you can slip
on ice and fall. If you fall for a girl, it is
harder to get up. While snow is packed on
the ground, you can have a lot of fun with
it as long as it stays solid. But when it gets
soft and starts to leave, it is a mess and also
very annoying. Lots of times women give
you a big build up for a fast let down.
You know how mad it makes you when
all of a sudden it begins to blow a regular
blizzard of snow and you think of how much
fun you are going to have, but it melts and
disappears when it comes in contact with
the ground. They both cause a lot of trouble,
but you can have a lot of fun with either
of them. The strange thing is that we don’t
have snow in the summer, but “the women
ye have with you always.”
When The Heather Is In Bloom
C. G. Speck
The fragrant smell of heather was in her
hair, in her clothes. Of Scotland and England
she reminded me. Her pale white skin as
white as moonlight, her flaxen hair and her
loveliness could not be excelled. Gazing at
her from a distance, I first thought she was
a goddess from some far-flung realm that
had come to bewitch and enchant me.
Yet, she was as gentle and as sweet as she
was lovely. No greater love could anyone
ask than to be loved by her.
And then one day, before the lovely spring
had come, she told me that she must go, go
back to Scotland, to the moor-lands, and to
the country that was hers.
I entreated her to remain but a few weeks
longer. This she did, but forever pining for
her country and saying o’er and o’er, “Oh,
to be in Scotland when the heather is in
bloom — the heather and the moor-lands, the
heather and my home.”
My entreaties were but in vain; her love
of country was greater than her love for me.
I saw her leave England one spring morn¬
ing. I saw her leave England to return again
no more. My heart was torn inside me; I
wished to keep her here, here in my Eng¬
land, here with me; but her heart was not in
England, her heart was not with me, her
heart was in far-off Scotland with the heather
and the moors.
Depart, she did, and never again to re¬
turn. I had lost my heart, my only heart, to
Scotland and the moors.
Without A Song
Leora Knapp
Without a song the day would never end;
Without a song the road would never bend.
When things go wrong, a man ain’t got a
friend
Without a song .
Cole Porter
I remember in the picture, “Christmas
Holiday”, Deanna Durbin said that music
added something new to her life — something
that had never been there before. So it is
with music and song; it adds something very
exciting. It takes you from the world of
reality into a world of joy and untold emo¬
tions. Music is not only the snappy trumpet
of Harry James nor the melancholy trom¬
bone of Tommy Dorsey as so many bobby
sox high school kids today believe; but
someday they will come to understand that
it is the undescribable, intangible, strains of
the concertos and symphonies of Rachman¬
inoff, Liszt, Tschaikowsky, Franck, and
countless others that take you into a world
of clouds and green pastures so unlike the
war-torn world of today.
The very thoughts of human beings are
wrapped in song, songs to fit all moods —
pensive, jolly, passionate; songs for the old
and young. Man can never be in doubt as
long as there is a world of song.
So as the high school and college girls
with sloppy skirts and sweaters, with saddles
and silver hair clips and as the cute boys of
sixteen and even seventeen go whirling a-
cross the dance floors, their eyes twinkle as
Tommy Dorsey swings out with Hogey
Charmicheal’s immortal “Stardust.” They
know it’s the song that makes them starry-
eyed. As our parents turn the dial from war
news to listen to some old favorite, their
eyes twinkle also. For it’s with song old
times are renewed. Song sends the infant to
peaceful sleep. It is the very inspiration of
our fighting men.
Song can make you laugh and cry. Songs
are living memories — thoughts of yester¬
year. The world salutes the great inspiration
and emotion of yesterday, today, and tomor¬
row. It is the poem set to music — a song.
Frozen Water
Giles Powell
Snow lay on the ground like a great white
blanket as I looked out the window on that
crisp, cold morning. I was lying back down
to sleep when what I had seen finally reached
my fogged brain. I reached for my chewing
gum, which I kept behind my ear, and rolled
out of bed.
Having dressed and being well on my way
through breakfast, I began to make plans for
sleigh riding. This being a day of school was
an added complication, but I soon decided
that it was wisest to bless dear old R. C.
with my presence. The day was even longer
than usual; it seemed like eternity before
the bell rang.
Leaving my beloved school was no easy
task, but I finally tore myself away from
my loving teachers, who each wanted my
company for a couple of hours, and made
my way home. By dark I had disposed of
my books, had my supper, and had donned
my four shirts, hat, gloves, scarf, and boots.
Then I borrowed a sled and left for Utopia.
I stopped by the nut-house to pick up
my girl (we use them for girls anyway) and
headed for the hill.
Upon arriving at our destination, we im¬
mediately tried out our skill upon the “icy
track.” We went down together, I being the
“cushion” as well as the “pilot.” It was so
dark I couldn’t see a thing until we were
upon it. The sled lurched suddenly in an
unseen ditch, slammed across a piece of
cement, and hit a series of bumps. I felt as
though my ribs and chest were crushed and
that I was running on one lung. All that
‘‘dead weight” on my back was compressing
me until I felt like a sardine.
A telephone pole loomed out of the dark¬
ness, and I gave a frantic tug on the con¬
trols. We hit some ice and slid sideways.
I dug my feet into the snow and we got
straightened out. Just then some “inbosel”
cut across the path, and another tug at the
controls passed us just out of range of a tree.
Open road now faced us. The wind tore
at our faces and tears ran down our cheeks
as we sped down the rest of the hill.
We reached the bottom of the hill in a
burst of speed — just enough speed to plow
us through the snow on our faces as we “hit
the deck” to keep from running down some
“smart” driver with the brakes on.
We got up, put my ribs in place, inflated
the other lung, wiped the water from our
eyes, dumped the snow from our pockets
and boots, blew our noses, and started back
up for another peaceful coast on a snowy
hill.
Yes! That’s Football!
Jean Pittman
Waynesboro was playing the Blue Streaks
of Harrisonburg the most important game
of the year. The score was 0 to 0 in the
third quarter. It meant everything to the
Little Giants of Waynesboro to win a game
over the Blue Streaks. For years now the
giants had taken a beating from the eleven
clad in blue and white.
The best player for Waynesboro was
Jimmy Taylor, the type that never gave
up. It was very unusual for him to be tired,
but this afternoon even Jimmy had taken a
beating. The eleven Blue Streaks were
watching this guy because they knew that
he supported the whole team.
Jimmy stood watching and waiting while
the eleven in blue and white uniforms went
into a huddle; he clawed the dirt first with
one foot then with the other. Far ahead the
two lines slowly leaned forward over the
ball.
It was a punt, which sailed high into the
sky. Quietness went over the spectators as
the ball settled into Taylor’s arms. He was
off like a flash running toward that goal.
Suddenly as if out of nowhere there was one
of Harrisonburg’s ends. Taylor was down,
or was he? He was blotted out by a mass of
tacklers, while one player held a shoe. He
was through. As if by magic, suddenly he
shot through that mass of arms, legs, and
bodies. He was free again. The other ten
Waynesboro men were up and after those
Blue Streaks. Yes, they had cut off those
tacklers and Jimmy was once more free.
Yet there came a strange blue and white
figure after him; he had jarred Taylor’s
body and upset his stride. He almost fell,
yet his feet kept moving. Only five yards
to go; yes, he’s over.
There on the score board was 6 for Way¬
nesboro, 0 for the visitors.
Four minutes left to play. There was still
a chance for Waynesboro to be beaten.
Football wasn’t fun near the end of the
game; everyone was tired your head was
dizzy; you were far too exhausted to call
signals. Four minutes seemed like four years.
Yet you knew that the other team was tired
too.
Time-out was over. Harrisonburg’s key
man had the ball; he must be stopped. He
had the ball and two of the Little Giants
were after him. He was down. At this same
minute the game was over!
You were too tired to realize you had won.
No, this didn’t matter at all. This was the
game you had played so hard for and you
were too tired to care who had won. Yes!
That’s football.
Kentucky
Kay Kinser
I was born in the suburbs of a beautiful
southern city in Kentucky. This city and the
small towns around it have always been my
ideal spot to call home. When someone says
the word Kentucky or when I see it in print,
something always stops inside me. It’s be¬
cause the word reminds me of rolling land,
green grass, pure clean air, and the pictur¬
esque patterns of the clouds on a warm sum¬
mer day.
My childhood in the little town of An¬
chorage was a happy one. I’m not the least
bit ashamed of the fact that I spent my early
days in a small suburban town. On the con¬
trary, I’m rather proud that I had the privi¬
lege of living in a beautiful clean village,
free from city dust and smoke.
Life in Anchorage was not a net work of
night clubs, theatres, and drive-ins. It was
not even what you might call an exciting
place to live, that is if you call excitement
going to dance spots and big parties. It was
so to me though. I was outside practically all
the time. My bicycle carried me all over the
country side for miles around and to the
woods for fishing, hunting, and exploring. I
found stray animals of all sorts, shapes, and
sizes. After I adopted, named, and took them
home as pets, they became a part of the
family and were treated as such. One time I
recall that I had a big turtle named Joe who
even slept under a chair in our living room.
Sometimes at night my sister and I slept
outside without fear of some stranger molest¬
ing us. We awoke in the morning when all
was quiet. The air seemed cool and pure as
if it had rained in the night. The trees were
a shiny green and the scene looked like an
over-painted picture.
I had no cares then except those concern¬
ing my adopted animal friends. Sometimes I
rode my bicycle for miles and miles because
I had nothing else to do. The kids in our
neighborhood formed a bicycle club to have
something to do, and every week we packed
a picnic lunch and rode far into the country
to enjoy the day. I remember that our fa¬
vorite picnic ground was by a rippling creek
on a farm five or six miles from our little
town.
The farmer never seemed to object to our
feeding his unripened apples to his mules or
playing in his hay stacks. We even borrowed
his big yellow ears of corn to roast over a
makeshift fire. On the way home we sang
songs; and when we grew tired of those we
knew, we created new ones to last until we
got home.
I spent twelve summers in this outdoor
atmosphere; and although I have lived in
Virginia almost four years now, my heart
still belongs to a quiet little town in Ken¬
tucky.
enior Glass (Will
We, the Senior class of Waynesboro High School, realizing that our battles have been
completed and our enemies conquered, do feel it proper and fitting in this year of our
Lord, nineteen hundred forty-five, to make certain bequests to those buddies who are
next to occupy our positions. 1 bus we hereby draw up, publish, and declare this to be our
last will and testament.
Sam Preston leaves Dimples Kite to the junior boys, labeled “Reserved.”
Giles Powell leaves his ability to be such a grand fellow to Robert Pleasants, hoping
he will use it.
Helen Waller leaves her small hands to Lucille Henderson, reminding her that they
are useful at times.
Myrtle Henderson wills her job at the Southern to the many envious girls that need a
new way to see cadets.
Mary Rose O’Brien wills her natural curly hair to Jane Zimmerman with a comb and
brush and instructions to comb daily !
Paul Jones leaves his love for the Marines to the many boys of Waynesboro High that
will enter the service in the near future saying, “There’s nothing like it.”
Christine Hoy leaves her good grades to “Flab” Hughes with instructions that they
come only through hard work.
Nehi Knapp leaves her dramatic ability to future Dramatic Club members.
Jean Furr leaves her height to Jean Birdsong, because Clevenger is taller than Skinner.
Marrion Drummond leaves Jean Pittman to the junior boys, labeled, “Private Property.”
Pete East wills his dilatoriness to anyone who hates as much as he to get up in the
mornings.
Jean Bratton leaves her secret on “how to get and keep” a nice figure to Frances
Humphries, reminding her that dieting is dangerous.
Phyllis Cline wills her quiet disposition to Jacke Quick in high hopes.
Loula Hanger leaves her student council ability to Kitty McCormick, who seems to be
doing all right.
Mary Gray Craig leaves her giggles to Juanita Jones, who seems to be making progress
with her own.
Bobby Jenkins leaves his variety zoo to Mrs. Davies.
Selda Mae Layton wills her flaming red hair to the many boys and girls who have
tried so hard to be strawberry blondes.
Angela Harris leaves her natural black hair to Jackie Darnell because it looks better that
color than any of the others she tried lately.
Elinor White wills her weight to Betty Quillen, hoping it won’t be a nuisance.
James Taylor is leaving his quiet, modest, business-like manner to “Buster” Bones, who
is already business-like, but . . . !
Ruby Wagner is leaving her address book to Betty Wade, who has always been com¬
petition.
Frances Lafferty won’t part with her part of the Navy, so she doesn’t will anything.
Calvin Via leaves his tips on “how to be lazy and get by with it” to the junior class,
that already hag a wonderful start.
Charlotte Cooke leaves several inches of her hair to Bob Burns to keep his ears warm.
Haliburton Baylor leaves his good looks to Carl Shumate hoping it will help him get
along better with certain girls.
Woody Herron leaves his athlete ability to Bob Maupin, who’s doing all right.
George Barksdale leaves his loud manner tio anyone who can stand it.
Ellen Moyer leaves her basketball ability to future basketball teams reminding them
that it’s all right to be defeated by out of town teams.
Nora Critzer leaves her natural red hair to Ann Best and Libby Ann so they can stop
using rinse.
Phyllis Showers leaves her grown-up ways to her brother, Clinton — hoping !
Tommy Vicars leaves his birthplace, South West, Va., to Miss Wolfe, ’cause we all
know how she loves it.
Eugene Byrd wills his ability to bluff to the Waynesboro High School faculty to be
used in self-defense when Jimmie Bratton learns to play “Dishes in the Sink,” Scott Nininger
will furnish the vocals.
Leigh Ball leaves his quiet disposition! to students as they enter the library.
Charlene Armentrout wills her jokes to her sister with instructions to “keep the corn
growing.”
Mary Etta Cash gives her job to Betty Skillman knowing that) it’s easy for her to giggle.
Jean Coffey wills her hair curlers to Joan Hanger. And, Joan, there’s a limit to every¬
thing.
William Craig leaves his girls at Madison College to that dashing young Casanova,
Buddy Davis.
Daisy Lee Dean will not part with her man, but leaves the instructions of how to get
one to Mary Virginia Rathburn with high hopes.
Kenneth Dunn leaves his quietness to Peggy Moore. Little girls should not be a radio
broadcasting station !
Betty Ann Hicks leaves Woody to the many envious girls and admirers.
C. G. Speck wills his artistic ability to June Chandler. But, June, remember there is
more than one kind of art.
Lois Steppe leaves her ability to ask questions to Maisie Hanger so that she can grow
up to be a dictionary.
Carol Smith wills her smile to Wanda Talley reminding her to smile more often.
Edith Fitzgerald leaves her pancake make-up to Louise Carter, reminding her a dark
complexion looks better witjh bright sweaters.
Ida Almarode leaves her ability to get other girls’ boyfriends to Graham Driver, who
seems to be trying hard.
Jane Layman leaves her voice to Deloris Yancey, telling her to keep singing.
Rhudine Layton leaves her love for soldiers to Jean Roberts, who already makes fre¬
quent visits to W. W. G. H.
Alvin Cook leaves his quietness to the students to use in the halls.
Viola Kelly wills her instructions on how to make long shots on ithe basketball court
to Phyllis Fortune, wishing her better luck.
Verlin Marion leaves Woody to Betty Wade warning her, she hasn’t given up.
Louise Sayre leaves her Ouija Board ito Miss George, reminding her it worked one time.
Lloyd Blackwell leaves his ability to do everything to anyone who is fool enough to
try it.
Robert Evans leaves his ability to get a woman and keep her to Carl Almarode, re¬
minding him not to change daily.
Jean Gumm leaves her studious habits to all them that need them.
Seretha Taylor wills her good disposition to her sister, who already has one.
Lucille Moses leaves her big blue eyes to Joan Coyner, to wear with Cris’s blue sweater.
Jimmy Beardsworth wills his beautifully bound book entitled, “What I Know About
Women,” to Jimmy Bratton, saying, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again.”
Frank Taylor leaves his Math, ability in Room 201, reminding seniors that it is “blood,
sweat, and tears.”
Margaret Hanshaw leaves her ability to get a man and hold him to Mary Sue Goche-
nour, who seems to be having difficulty.
Bob White leaves his manly physique to Kirk Cline so he can say, “Today, I am a man !”
Mary Alice Kerlin wills her neatness to Jo Ann Yount, hoping she will make use of it.
Cris Coyner wills her cheerful smile to her sister, saying “Smile and the world will
smile with you.”
Johnny Henderson leaves his small statue to Hannah Moore — precious things come in
small packages.
Connie Ellington refuses to part with “Tony,” but will leave her legs to Jackie Darnell,
who seems so envious.
And now we, the Senior class, feel that he have honored you by leaving part of our
highly desirable traits to the future dignified seniors, so to the faculty, we leave.
Given under our hand and seal this fourth day of June, 1945.
enior
ALMARODE, IDA
Bowling Team ’41
Choral Club ’41 ’42
Victory Corps ’43 ’44
Jr. Red Cross ’44 ’45
ARMENTROUT, CHARLENE
Freshmen Bowling Team ’41
Choral Club ’41
Jr. News-Virginian Staff ’41 '42
Victory Corps '41 ’42 ’43
Chairman Jr. Red Cross ’44 ’45
BAKER, CALLIE
Torch-Y ’41 ’42
Choral Club ’42
Dramatic Club ’41 ’45
BALL, LEIGH
Football '43 '44
W-Club ’43 ’44 ’45
BARKSDALE, GEORGE
Victory Corps ’42
Jr. Red Cross ’44
Latin Club ’42
Annual Staff ’45
BAYLOR, HALIBURTON
Baseball ’44
BLACKWELL, LLOYD
Dramatic Club ’41 ’42 ’43 ’44 ’45
Band ’41 ’42
Jr. News-Virginian Staff ’42
Junior Varsity Basketball ’43 ’44
Football Manager ’44
W-Club ’44 ’45
Cheer Leader ’43 ’44
Bowling Team ’41
Baseball Manager ’44
Annual Staff ’45
Student Council ’43 ’44
Victory Corps, ’42 ’43
Basketball ’44 ’45
Choral Club ’42 ’43
Vice-President of Senior Class ’45
dJirectorij
BEARDSWORTH, JIMMY
Football ’43 ’44
Basketball ’43 ’44 '45
Jr. News-Virginian ’41 ’42
Junior Varsity Basketball ’41 ’42
W-Club ’43 ’44 ’45
BRATTON, JEAN
Choral Club '40 ’41
Victory Corps '44
Bowling Team ’41
BYRD, EUGENE A.
Football ’43 ’44
W-Club ’43 Secretary W-Club ’44
Annual Staff ’45
Baseball ’45
Bowling Team ’43
CAMPBELL, CHARLES E.
Football
W-Club
CASH, MARY ETTA
Jr. News-Virginian Staff ’41 ’42
Victory Corps ’41 ’42 ’43
Jr. Red Cross ’44
CLINE, PHYLLIS
Choral Club ’41 ’42 ’43
COFFEY, JEAN
Choral Club ’41 ’42 ’43
COOK, ALVIN
Baseball ’43 ’44
COOKE, CHARLOTTE
Dramatic Club ’41
Jr. Varsity Basketball ’42
Varsity Basketball ’43 ’44 ’45
Annual Staff ’45
COYNER, CRIS
Choral Club ’41
Dramatic Club ’41
Victory Corps ’42 President ’43 ’44
Student Council ’43 ’44
Jr. Red Cross ’44
CRAIG, MARY GRAY
Student Council ’42 '43 ’44
Torch-Y ’42
Victory Corps Chairman Gen. Div. ’44
Basketball — Jr. Varsity ’42 Varsity ’45
Dramatic Club ’42 ’44
Majorette Corps ’44
CRAIG, WILLIAM
Dramatic Club ’41
Latin Club ’42
Jr. News-Virginian Staff ’41
Football ’44
Bowling Team '41
CRITZER, NORA
Dramatic Club
DEAN, DAISY LEE
Entered High School in ’43
DUNN, KENNETH
Dramatic Club
GUMM, JEAN
Choral Club ’41 ’42 ’43
HANGER, LOULA C.
Secretary Assembly Committee ’42
Victory Corps '42 ’43
Vice-President Junior Class ’43 ’44
Student Council ’43 ’44 President ’44 ’45
HANSHAW, MARGARET
Bowling Team ’42
Entered High School in 1941
Victory Corps
HARRIS, ANGELA
Junior Red Cross ’43 ’44 ’45
HENDERSON, JOHN
Dramatic Club ’41 ’42
Junior News-Virginian ’41 ’42
W-Club ’43 ’44 ’45
Football Manager ’42 ’43 '44
Basketball Manager ’42 ’43 ’44
Baseball Manager ’42 ’43 ’44
DRUMMOND, MARRION
Football
Basketball
HENDERSON, MYRTLE
Choral Club ’41 ’42
Jr. Varsity Basketball ’41 ’42
Bowling Team ’42 ’43
ELLINGTON, CONSTANCE BERNICE Basketball ’43 ’44 ’45
Junior Varsity Basketball ’42 Social Committee '44 ’45
Jr. News-Virginian Staff ’42 ’43 Cheerleaders ’44 ’45
Choral Club ’42
Latin Club ’43
Torch-Y ’43
Varsity Basketball ’43
Dramatic Club ’42
Victory Corps ’44 Chairman Community
Division
Student Council ’43 Secretary ’44 ’45
Social Committee ’44 ’45
HICKS, BETTY ANN
Choral Club ’42
Victory Corps ’43
Annual Staff ’41
Bowling Team '41
Latin Club ’43
HOY, CHRISTINE
Victory Corps '42 ’43
EVANS, ROBERT T.
Choral Club
Annual Staff ’45
JENKINS, ROBERT
Dramatic Club ’44 ’45
Jr. News-Virginian Staff ’42 ’43
FITZGERALD, EDITH
Choral Club '43
FURR, JEAN
Bowling Team ’42 ’43 ’44
KELLY, VIOLA
Entered High School in 1943
Basketball ’44 ’45 (Captain)
Annual Staff ’45
Bowling Team ’43 ’44
KERLIN, MARY ALICE
Choral Club '41 '42
Dramatic Club '42 '43
Social Committee '43 '44
Annual Staff '45
KNAPP, LEORA MAY
Dramatic Club '41 '42, '42 '43
Cheer leader '42 '43, '43 '44, '44 '45
Annual Staff '45
LAFFERTY, FRANCES
Junior Varsity Basketball '42
Choral Club '42
Torch-Y '42
Basketball '43 '44, '44 '45
Freshmen Dramatic Club '41 '42
Annual Staff '45
LAYMEN, JANE
Manager Basketball '43 '44
Social Committee '43 '44
Band '42 '43
Orchestra '41 '42
LAYTON, RHUDENE
Bowling Team '41
Entered High School in 1941
LAYTON, SELDA MAE
Entered High School in 1941
MARION, VERLIE
Victory Corps '42 '43
Jr. News- Virginian Staff '42 '43
MOSES, LUCILLE
Choral Club '41 '42 '43
MOYER, ELLEN
Jr. Varsity Basketball '41
Assembly Committee '41 Chairman '42
Torch-Y '42
Victory Corps '43
Basketball '45
Annual Staff '45
NININGER, SCOTT
Band '41 '42 '43
Dramatic '41 '42
O'BRIEN, MARY ROSE
Dramatic Club '43 '44
Latin Club '41 '42
Variety Show '45
POWELL, GILES
Basketball '42 '43 '44 '45
Football '42 '43 '44
Tennis '41
Jr. Varsity Basketball '41
Student Council '41 '42 Vice-President '43
W-Club '43 '44 '45
Victory Corps '43
President Junior Class '43 '44
President Senior Class '44 '45
Annual Team '41
Bowling Team '41
PRESTON, SAM
Entered high school in '42
Social Com. '44 '45 President
Football '42 '43 '44 '45
Dramatic Club '43 '44
Band '42
SAYRE, LOUISE
Choral Club '41 '42
Victory Corps '42 '43
Torch-Y '42 '43
Bowling Team '42 '43 '44
SHOWERS, PHYLLIS
Entered high school in 1941
SPECK, C. G.
Dramatic Club '43 '44
Latin Club '42
STEPPE, LOIS
Choral Club '41 '42 '43
Dramatic Club '41 '42 '43 '44
Victory Corps '43 '44
Tennis '41
Basketball '41 '42 '43 '44
Jr. Red Cross '43
Latin Club
TAYLOR, FRANK M.
Football '44
Baseball '45
TAYLOR, JAMES
Annual Staff ’45
Victory Corps ’42 ’43, ’43 ’44
Bowling Team ’41
Dramatic Club ’42
TAYLOR, SERETHA
Choral Club ’41
VIA, CALVIN
Baseball ’44
W-Club ’44 ’45
VIA, RUDOLPH
Football ’42 ’43 ’44
Baseball '44 ’45
W-Club ’44 ’45
Track ’44 ’45
Bowling ’44
VICARS, TOM
Football ’43 ’44
W-Club ’43 ’44
WAGNER, RUBY
Dramatic Club ’42
Jr. News-Virginian ’43
Jr. Red Cross ’44 ’45
Student Council ’45
Manager Girls’ Basketball ’45
Annual Staff
WALLER, HELEN
Choral Club
WHITE, ELEANOR
Choral Club ’43
Victory Corps ’43
Basketball ’45
Bowling Team ’42
WHITE, ROBERT
Junior Varsity Basketball ’41
Dramatic Club ’41
Football ’42 ’43 ’44 ’45
TO THE SENIOR CLASS
OF 1945
oOOOo
You are in the vanguard of progress. You
are potent factors in the upbuilding of our
Nation's welfare. You are bright beacons of
endeavor upon the shores of the vast sea of life.
T ruly, we are proud of you, and the victories you
achieved will be a great reflection in the years
to come. But it is our sincere hope that all of
you will aspire to climb to the greater heights
of knowledge and fame in higher education.
We wish for each one of you a full life of
happiness and success.
oOOOo
. . . HANEY'S PHARMACY . . .
COMPLIMENTS
OF
CHARLES 1. KEYT CO
0-0
Waynesboro, Virginia
0-0
Phone 107
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OF
MODERN FURNITURE CO.
! o-o
Waynesboro, Virginia
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Si
Si
Si
Si
WHITE BROTHERS
oOOOo
THE SHOPPING CENTER
For
GOOD CLOTHES
Si
Si
Si
Si
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G. W. SPECK
OF
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Waynesboro, Virginia
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BETTY LEWIS BREAD
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. . . GROSSMAN'S . . .
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0-0
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CORRECT APPAREL
FOR
% %
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WOMEN and MISSES
WAYNESBORO - VIRGINIA
...HYMAN'S...
Wearing Apparel For The Whole Family
SINCERE WISHES
FOR THE
CONTINUED SUCCESS
OF THE
CLASS OF ’45
0OOO0
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E. I. DuPont de Nemours & Co.
INCORPORATED
Waynesboro . Virginia
R. R. SPECK
GROCERY and MEAT MARKET
Charlotte Avenue
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129 Wayne Avenue
Phone 53
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00O00
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ACCIDENT
AND
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Phone 135 . Waynesboro, Va.
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Waynesboro, Virginia
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Waynesboro, Virginia
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THE TREASURE SHOP
Waynesboro, Virginia
Waynesboro, Virginia
& in
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Waynesboro, Virginia
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$31 $g
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AUGUSTA
NURSERY
FURNITURE COMPANY
0-0
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We Specialize in Helping
Young Folks to Furnish
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Cash Talks
and Economically
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VIRGINIA
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■$3 i yg
% $31
A . . Good . . Place . . To . . Eat
Compliments Of
F & N BARBER SHOP
Sanitary, Expert Workmanship
0-0
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CAFE
Compliments Of
Waynesboro Moose Lodge
No. 1309
THE
Wayne and Cavalier
THEATRES
0OO00
The Wayne and Cavalier are two of the finest theatres in the
Shenandoah Valley. Both buildings are of modern , fireproof
construction and have been maintained at a high standard ever
since their erection : the Wayne in 1926 and the Cavalier in
1929.
Auditoriums in both theatre buildings are spacious and every
convenience has been installed for the comfort of patrons.
Seats , ventilation, screen, picture projectors and sound equip¬
ment are always maintained at a standard that provides for the
utmost enjoyment of the show.
ooOOo
“Shenandoah Valley’s Finest Theatres”
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FOR
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LADIES
VIRGINIA
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510 Main Street Phone 24
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THE
CITIZENS WAYNESBORO
BANK & TRUST CO.
o-o
MAIN OFFICE, WAYNESBORO, VA.
BRANCH OFFICE, PARK STATION
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a Savings Account ”
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THE
AUGUSTA CLEANERS
FIRST NATIONAL BANK
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TAILORS
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. . . YOUR DAILY
NEWSPAPER . . .
oOOOo
MEMBER ASSOCIATED PRESS
oOOOo
MEMBER AUDIT BUREAU OF CIRCULATIONS
VS
£
%
Wayne Welding Company
£
% £
Auto Body Work and Refinishing
HAMILTON-COOK
Auto Glass Cut and Installed
Siberling Tires
HARDWARE
0-0
Complete Radiator Service
CO.
219 Arch Ave. Phone 4
0-0
COMPLIMENTS
“Your Sport Center’ f
0 F
0-0
BLUE RIDGE GROCERY
0-0
PHONE
Wholesale Grocery
10 4
& vs
Phone 150
0-0
Main Street
COMPLIMENTS
W. W. BARNWELL
BUY
WAR BONDS
AND
STAMPS
TM I MCCLtfM CO.. PKINTIU. STAUNTON. VA
AUTOGRAPHS
73, r/ttii
WAYNESBORO PUBLIC LIBRARY - ITEM
Live Music
Archive
Librivox
Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland
Museum of Art
Internet
Arcade
Console Living Room
Open Library
American
Libraries
TV News
Understanding
9/11